


Happy Endings aren't for Double-Ohs

by Anathema Device (notowned)



Series: Tales of London Town [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: BAMF Q, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, References to past rape and torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6166525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notowned/pseuds/Anathema%20Device
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was silly to think it could ever be easy with a James Bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Endings aren't for Double-Ohs

**Author's Note:**

> Follows directly on from [The Dread Pirate James Bond](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6114933)

When Q told Naomi, she clapped her hands and said, “I’m so happy for you!” Then kissed them both and said they looked so right for each other.

Her ecstatic reaction sounded more like Q and James had announced their engagement rather than James taking a room in their house and beginning a tentative relationship with her brother. Did he come off as that hard up for a date?

But he couldn’t be cross because James was holding his hand, and Q felt just a _little_ giddy from happiness himself.

“When will you move in?” Q asked James.

“Now? I, uh, pretty much have everything with me that I own.”

“In that bag?” Naomi frowned. “Where did you live before?”

“I had a house fire,” James lied smoothly. “And I’ve been bouncing around, staying with friends.”

“You still are, I hope,” she said. “This is wonderful. I won’t have to worry about you being all on your own when I’m away, Daniel.”

Q let go of James’s hand and pulled the covers up around him. “I’m not. I have the cats. I manage perfectly well, Naomi.”

“Well, I’m not sorry to have someone else around right now. Though I presume you work, James?”

“At MI6 too. I’m in the middle of changing roles, so I’ll return to work in the new year. I can help Daniel get back on his feet.”

“I don’t _need_ a nurse.” Now Q was cross. “If I do, Six will provide one. And a doctor, and hospitalization if necessary. I don’t like being fussed over.” His glare was aimed entirely at James. Naomi, apart from her initial distress, didn’t fuss. They had learned not to from watching Mum.

“That makes two of us,” James said calmly, and Q’s anger deflated. He’d gone and got ahead of himself.

“Naomi, is there any more tea? James might like some.”

James climbed off the bed. “I can find it. Which room would you like me to use?”

“Let me show you,” Naomi said. “Daniel, do you mind if I...?”

“No, please. Sorry to be cranky.”

She bent and kissed his cheek. “You’ve been an angel, considering. Have some rest and I’ll get James sorted. What time do you want to eat?”

“Whenever you like. Usual time.” Q’s appetite had been poor as a result of the medication and pain, but he knew he had to eat well and often to heal. “I should come downstairs.”

“Not on my account,” James said, pinning him again with an intense gaze. “I know how much deep burns hurt. I could join you up here, or just after supper.”

“After. Thank you.” A boyfriend who understood torture wounds. A rare beast indeed.

Naomi took James away. Q sipped his tea, waiting for his chest to settle down. He wondered if it was a night for the morphine again, but he hated it. He couldn’t rush the process of healing, but it was a complete _bore_.

James being here was wonderful. James being here was going to be incredibly embarrassing. Naomi had found a way Q could have a limited shower and wash his hair tomorrow, and James would want to help. Q did _not_ want James’s first sight of his naked body to be him covered in dressings, dripping wet and being a pathetic mess. But the doctors had been _very_ stern about him not showering without help. Time for some phone calls.

Task completed, he dozed off. When he woke, his glasses had been taken off his face, the empty mug removed, and James was sitting in the armchair, reading with Isaac on his lap. Moses was on the end of the bed, watching his brother being petted. “How long have you been there?” Q fumbled for his glasses. He’d been asleep at least two hours.

“Not long. I’ve been chatting to Naomi. Just how much pain are you in?”

“Not enough to complain to you about.”

James came over to help him fluff up the pillows a bit. Q waved him off. “I can do it.”

“I know. I just wanted to do this again.” He bent and kissed Q, stroking Q’s own new beard. “Hmmm, I like this.”

“I don’t. I need a haircut and a shave and no, not from you.”

“A shave can be a very sensual experience.” The naughty quirk of James’s mouth told Q he knew this personally. Q didn’t want to know.

“Not right now it’s not. I have someone coming over to help me wash tomorrow. I’ll sort it out then.”

James frowned at him. “But you have Naomi and me. Why—”

“Neither of you is a trained nurse who knows about lifting injured people. All right, _you_ do,” Q amended as James opened his mouth to protest. “But I’m not hoping to have sex with the nurse.”

James grinned. “You’re shy.”

“I’m not going to be your damsel in distress, James.”

“I rather thought I was yours, Daniel. Since you were the one to save me.”

“Hmpf. Anyway, that’s how it is. Why aren’t you going back to work before Xmas?”

“M thought it would be better for you to be back at the helm before throwing me into the works.”

“I disagree. The sooner you integrate, the better. I’ll call Tanner.”

“If you like. It’s only three weeks. Can’t stand me hanging around for that long?”

Q held out his hand for James to take. “No, it’s for your sake. You hate inactivity. So do I but I can’t do anything about it. Go to work, play nice, let me walk back in to a working department where no one wants to shoot you for being an arse.”

“No promises.”

“I’m warning you, James. Oh, what name have you given Naomi?”

“James Milton. She knows it’s fake. I, uh, haven’t told her what I’ll be doing at Six. Or have done.”

“Please don’t. She understands about the Official Secrets act and all that.”

“Good.” James stroked his hand. “I should review your security here.”

Q glared. “Oh certainly. Because the head of Q-Branch can’t possibly be trusted to have done _that_ properly, or have it tested and updated on a six-monthly basis. You’re doing it again.”

“Yes. Sorry.” James kissed his hand. “Where do you want me to sleep tonight?”

Q’s heart rate sped up. “Where do _you_?”

“Here, but I don’t know how you’ll feel about that.”

“Let’s try. I’ll probably either snore or be horribly restless. Damn these bloody drugs.”

James nodded. “I don’t take them.”

Q winced again. The breakthrough pain was particularly annoying tonight, and it made his reply sharper than he meant it to be. “Sorry I can’t be as butch as you, commander.”

“Hang on. I don’t take them because they made me vulnerable to attack in enemy territory. I also have an insanely high pain tolerance, as all the double-ohs have to have. None of that applies to you. None of that makes you weak.” James cupped his chin. “You are not weak in the slightest, Q. We have—had—different jobs, different priorities. My body is a fucking wreck because of the compromises I had to make over and over. Don’t do that to yourself. Heal properly. Butch is overrated.”

Q rubbed his chin against James’s callused hand. “I’m being a sod, aren’t I?”

“A bit. Nothing I can’t handle. Or that I’m not used to from you.” James grinned again. “It’s not like you were ever particularly nice to me.”

“Then why the hell do you even want me? I mean, you could have anyone. I think you did have everyone.”

“Not _quite_ everyone.” Q snorted in disbelief. “As for why, you can’t imagine why you’re attractive?”

“To you, commander. To _you._ ”

“You want me to feed your ego.”

“Yes.” Q refused to blush at all. “Why me?”

“All right. You’re smart, tough, kind, gentle, quite pleasant looking—”

“Excuse me?”

“Compared to Eve Moneypenny, I mean,” James said. “Look, do you want me to be honest or not?” Q shot him another death glare. “You said it yourself. I could have anyone if I was only after looks. Your sister is prettier than you. But in a man, I don’t want pretty. I want someone who can match me, who could take me in their field. Who can beat me.”

“Remind me to find my riding crop.”

“You’re being deliberately thick and I don’t believe a word of it. How much more do you want?”

“Just you. All of you. Kiss me again.”

_You just wait, James. I’ll show you ‘pleasant looking’._

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

It turned out that sleeping with James while injured was pretty much the same as sleeping with James while uninjured, except that when Q woke up in the middle of the night because the oxycodone messed up his sleep cycle, or he needed a pee, or he had nightmares again, James was there to hold his hand, talk to him, give him an assist if he wanted, and be there like a rock solid bulwark against the dream terrors when he didn’t. And James faced him in bed this time, so Q could see his hard, brutal looks softened by sleep, and cautiously touch his face, tracing the lines left by life, battle and James’s own forceful personality. Of course, the cats took full advantage of their new slave, but James didn’t seem to mind at all, and was usually up before Naomi to feed them. Q looked forward to the morning when he and James were both too worn out from sex to attend to a whiny cat the minute one of them started up.

The days were more difficult for James to fill. Since Q had arranged a daily visit by a nurse from Medical, and the doctor had tweaked his medication to cut down on breakthrough pain, and with James more than willing to run up and downstairs, Naomi decided to cancel her second week of leave so she could spend it between Xmas and New Year instead. But even with her assistance now provided by James, it wasn’t enough to keep the man busy. Tanner had nixed the idea of an early start to James’s new career, and Q refused to allow him to hang around in the bedroom, so James was reduced to long walks on the heath and running to the village for groceries as needed. He hadn’t yet mastered the art of Sainsbury’s, and if Q was honest, he wanted to see the spectacle of a former assassin dealing with a chain supermarket for himself.

Q didn’t like James hovering, which he did if there was nothing to occupy him. Q did allow him to assist with going downstairs and trying to spend more time in the living room rather than in bed as if he was ill, which he wasn’t. The doctor wanted him to be a little more active, but for now, a couple of turns around the garden was as much as he could manage. He hated appearing so feeble in front of a man whose physical prowess, even in middle age, was the stuff of legend. The awareness of the mismatch made him cranky as hell, until James took him to bed, cuddled him and kissed him breathless, and stroked his cock until Q came with a muffled yell against James’s neck. And when James let him reciprocate, when Q’s fingers were wrapped around that thick, uncut, glorious penis, with James panting into his mouth, tongue seeking eagerly, well, there was nothing Q could complain about at all.

It wasn’t much but it did at least prove to Q that James did want him, did want his hand and his mouth, and it was a little like being a god to have James Bond—his James Bond—helpless and needy under his touch.

If they could have sex all their waking hours, life would be perfect. Unfortunately, it didn’t work like that. Q could only hope that once he was back at work and healed, and James was back at work and had his mind and body occupied, this vague feeling of suffocation and losing control over his life would disappear. The doctor had suggesting counselling over the torture. Q had politely declined. He wasn’t averse to the idea, but he just didn’t need it. He would be fine once the burns healed properly and he could stop taking opiates.

Xmas was just days away. Not a thing in the Gelberg household for obvious reasons, though Q and Naomi usually took advantage of the downtime to visit their parents, have lunch, watch the Queen’s speech, and talk about everything but their jobs. This year, Q was almost fit enough to manage, but was in two minds whether introducing James at such an early stage in their relationship was a good idea. James had left it up to him, and Naomi was no help at all, Q thought he’d leave it until Xmas eve to decide.

Nor was the formerly riotous Q-branch Xmas party an option. The Xmas following the former M’s death was a sombre occasion with none of the silly pranks with gadgets of previous years, and the party had never recovered its former glory. This year Q, of course, had been invited, but simply didn’t feel up to it. James wouldn’t be there, Q couldn’t drink, and evenings were the worst time for him, pain-wise. He’d recorded a message for the team and told them he was looking forward to oppressing them properly on his return.

James didn’t care about the party. He had no positive feelings about Xmas, and no living family to guilt him over it. “I’m just looking forward to cooking if we’re here, eating if we’re not.”

To Q’s surprise, James cooked quite well, and Naomi, no slouch herself, had gladly handed that duty over to him until Q recovered. Since planning healthy delicious meals for the three of them and buying the supplies for same, kept James occupied, Q encouraged him as much as possible, even when eating was the last thing he felt like doing. It became a bit of an afternoon teatime thing for them to look at Grand-mère’s cookbooks and think about which recipe James could try next. Talking about food led to reminiscing about Grand-mère, and James talking about food in the navy, the best meals he’d had on missions, and some of the disgusting things he’d had to eat, either for politeness or survival.

Today Q had a list of the world’s worst foods on his laptop and wanted to know if James had eaten any of them. “ _Hakarl_?”

“Iceland, 2007.”

“And?”

“Tasted like arse.”

“Whose? And remember, I’m taking notes.”

Q was resting against James on the couch, which gave James plenty of opportunity to kiss the back of Q’s neck, and now, to tug his earlobe for his cheek. “None of your business.”

“ _Balut_?”

“Oh, lots of times. It’s just cooked duck.”

“Cooked _baby_ duck in its own shell, James. I mean, look.” He showed James the screen.

He felt James shrug. “You eat eggs, and they’re baby chickens. What about oysters?”

“Hmmm, never had one. Not kosher, you see.”

“But you eat bacon.”

“I never said I was religious about kosher.”

James laughed, and Q closed his eyes to enjoy the feel of his lover being happy, his warm body behind him. “You’re a nut,” James murmured, licking his ear.

“Yes. And you’re my squirrel.”

“Can’t wait to eat you, my little morsel.”

“So I’m an _amuse-bouche_ now?”

“A delicious one. Which end shall I start from?”

A ping on his laptop and from the alarm system told him that Naomi was home before he heard the front door open. She normally worked late but she had been to her office’s Xmas lunch, and no doubt took the opportunity to get home before the crowds on the Tube. Q didn’t move from his comfortable position. Naomi wouldn’t mind.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, unbuttoning her coat as she walked in. “God, I just had the most horrible experience. Some bloke followed me home from the station.”

Instantly James carefully moved Q aside and slid out from behind him. “Where? Is he still around?”

“No. A couple walking towards me put him off. I should call the police but I can’t give them much of a description. James, where are you going?” She turned as James left the room, and the front door opened again. “He won’t catch him. He’s long gone. Probably after my purse.”

Q, as James undoubtedly did, thought this was unlikely. “Come and sit. There’s some tea left.”

“No thanks. I’m overflowing. In fact, give me a minute, Daniel. I need the loo.”

James came back before Naomi. “No sign. Did she give you any details?” His face was set hard, his expression tight and resolute. “The police will be useless, but we should get Six on it.”

“Calm down. I’m already checking the CCTV.” James sat beside him as Q searched the servers for the Underground’s footage from Hampstead Station.

Engrossed, Q jumped a little when Naomi returned. “What are you doing? James, did you see anyone?”

“No. What was he wearing? Was it a man, for sure? Why did you think he was following you?”

Naomi, about to take a seat on the opposite chair, stopped short at James’s machine gun questioning. “Hang on. Shouldn’t I just call the police?”

“Sis, James...is sort of in that area in our section. He might be able to help.”

“Oh.” She sat. “He, definitely a he, was in dark clothing. A padded coat with a hood, dark jeans, I think. I saw him as I left the station. I stopped to buy some bread, and he was there, and then behind me as I walked up the hill. He came very close but then this couple appeared as I got to our gate and I was able to run inside.” She shivered. “Never had anything like that before.”

“Which station did you board from?”

“Knightsbridge this time. Changed at Leicester Square. What are you looking at? CCTV? But he can’t have been following me all the way from work.”

James watched Q work, and didn’t answer the implied question. It took a few minutes, but they found Naomi on the train platform at Knightsbridge, and then again at Leicester Square. “That man,” James said, pointing to a figure in a dark coat. “He’s behind her at both stations. He got onto the same carriage, but at a different door.”

“And there he is again at Hampstead, coming through the gates. Naomi, is that him?”

She came over to look and nodded. “Yes. He was behind me the whole time?”

“Better get your facial recognition people onto it,” James said, not answering Naomi.

“Grandmothers and duck eggs, James,” Q murmured, already typing.

“What’s going on? Daniel, why would MI6 be involved?”

He made the effort to smile. “Just a precaution. With your job and mine, and now James living here.”

“You should take a taxi to work and home again tomorrow,” James said, forgetting to smile, and forgetting Naomi wasn’t actually another agent.

“In the Xmas crowds? No thanks. I vary my route home just as Daniel does. That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not.” James’s expression was now chilly. “Daniel, perhaps I ought to accompany Naomi to and from work until we know who this guy is and where he’s from.”

Naomi stepped back, holding a hand up. “James, are you insane? No, I don’t want you to do that. You’re completely overreacting, the pair of you.”

James seemed to realise to whom he was talking, and made an effort to smile. “Just worried about you.”

“Well, that’s lovely, but I can look after myself, thanks. I’ll let work know. What about the police?”

“No.” Q and James spoke together. “Uh, look, maybe after I identify him, if I can?” Q said. “But if you could wear a tracker for the next few days, I’d be grateful.”

“All right. For you. I had my rape alarm in my hand, you know. And I was ready to knee him in the balls. I’m not a soft target.”

“Of course not,” James said, though Q could read his thoughts on the subject of civilian self-defence lessons and the inadequacy thereof as if they were printed on his forehead. “I’ll just start supper, shall I? Daniel, do you want to stay down here or go upstairs?”

“Up, please.”

“I’ll help him,” Naomi said. James looked about to argue but made way. “Thanks for caring about me,” she said to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s lovely.”

“I try my best,” James said, but his smile didn’t quite go all the way up. Q knew how he felt.

Q didn’t like the idea of James’s escorting his sister because that just made the target all the more enticing. He persuaded her to let him organise a car from Six for the next couple of days. “By which time I’ll know who this bloke is, and we can make his life living hell.”

“If you want to,” she said indulgently as she helped him settle into bed. “James is rather...forceful about this stuff, isn’t he?”

“He has good reason, sis. Trust me on this. I feel the same.”

“Now I almost wish I hadn’t said anything.”

“Please don’t hide that sort of thing from me, Naomi. Promise me. It’s important.” He took her hands. “I can’t explain, but it _is_ connected to work. My work.”

“You’re really worried?”

“Yes.”

“Then I promise.”

James, who joined Q in the bedroom for pudding, didn’t raise the subject until they were done and the plates had been taken downstairs. “Are you all right?” James asked. “Are you in pain?”

“Yes, and no. I’ve asked for one of Six’s cars to take her to and from work until everything closes down for Xmas. She’ll be with us until next week.”

“Unless she goes to your parents and you don’t.”

“Then I’ll go, as will you.”

“I would be better protection than one of Six’s drivers.”

“And then they can grab two for the price of one, can’t they?”

“What?” Naomi stepped into Q’s bedroom. Damn it, he hadn’t heard her step on the landing. “Daniel, what do you mean? Do you think someone is trying to kidnap me? But why would they want James?”

“Naomi, we can’t—”

She cut James off. “And who’s the actual target? Me? You? James? Is this something to do with how you got hurt? Oh God, it is, isn’t it?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’s all classified. Please, Naomi, we can talk about this later.”

“No, we can talk about this _now_. Why is James here? Is he your bodyguard too? Or are you protecting him? Are we in danger because he’s here?”

“No.” “Yes.” James’s voice clashed with Q’s. “Yes, there is an enhanced risk because I’m here,” James said. Q glared at him for being so indiscreet, but it was too late now.

Naomi’s eyes narrowed as dangerously as any double-oh’s. “Then _why_ are you here? Daniel’s hurt, and someone’s following me, and you put us in danger?”

“That’s enough!”

They stopped and looked at Q. “Naomi, please calm down. James is here because I want him here and he wants to be here. Yes his presence does add risk, as does mine, as does yours. The benefits of his presence outweigh the risk, in my opinion.”

“But you didn’t bother to ask mine? You withheld important information, Daniel. I’m entitled to know what’s going on in my own home!”

“She’s right,” James said. “I’m sorry, Naomi. I should have told you.”

“No, _I_ should have,” Q said.

“One of you should have,” Naomi said. “Now what are we going to do?”

“Just what I’ve said. You take the cars I’ve arranged, while James and I try to find out who this person is and what they want. Then we can make decisions.”

She pursed her lips. “You will keep me informed in full this time, brother mine, or I will have your guts for garters.”

“I promise. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

“Eventually. I need time to think about all this.” She came over and kissed Q’s head. “Sometimes, Daniel, I could wring your neck.”

“Sometimes I deserve it.”

She stood up. “You better put your money where your mouth is, James. Don’t you dare let a damn thing happen to him because of you.”

“I would die first.”

She blinked. Q hastened to explain. “It’s sort of his job, actually. I’m not that special.”

James looked at him. “I disagree.”

“Me too.” Naomi rubbed her forehead. “God, I need a drink. I’ll see you in the morning, Daniel. Good night.” She didn’t say anything to James before she left.

“I’ve never heard someone get the shovel talk before,” Q said. “And certainly not on my account.”

“She’s absolutely right. When will you get the image match results?”

“When we get them, James. You know how this works.”

“And you’re trying to find him on CCTV?”

Q sighed. “No, James. I have minions for that, ones who aren’t knackered and on strong medication. If you’re going to pester me, please sleep somewhere else. And stop telling me how to do my job.”

“As you just pointed out, it’s my job too.”

“ _Was_ your job. _Was_. Now you’re an advisor and not officially until January. Until then, you’re a kept layabout.”

James didn’t smile at the joke. “I need a shower. I might sleep in the other room, actually. I need to think about some things.”

“Fine. Good night.”

Maybe all this thinking his housemates were doing would produce a result that didn’t give Q a headache. He doubted it, somehow.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

James was in Q’s bed when Q awoke, which was something. Maybe the thinking had worked. And the cats hadn’t woken James first, which meant Naomi must have fed them before she left for the day. James was all his, for now, and Q could look his fill in the dim light.

But James didn’t give him long. Stretching carefully just two minutes later, he looked up and saw Q watching. “Good morning,” Q said.

“Hello.”

James smiled a little, but not enough. Q reached out a hand to him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Always fine.” James rolled over and sat up, much to Q’s annoyance. “Breakfast?”

“There’s no hurry.”

“No, but I’m awake now.” A brief kiss. “Back soon.”

He left so quickly—eagerly, Q thought sourly—that Q hadn’t been able to ask him to hand over the laptop. Fortunately the tablet was in reach. No email about the facial recognition. He hadn’t expected one but it would have been nice to have a place to start. At least Naomi’s tracker showed she was at work, and one hoped, quite safe. She was a systems analyst for a company providing security surveillance and defence for a number of small countries and large companies, and as such, her job intersected with SIS on a frequent basis. Her security clearance was as high as Q’s, but despite that, Q had always thought of himself as the higher risk sibling. Perhaps he’d been wrong.

Damn, he needed his laptop. And his pills. Normally James would help. Q manoeuvred himself slowly, painfully to the side to the bed, and hunched over until the worst of the pain was gone. He staggered to the bathroom in search of medication and the loo, feeling like a man three times his age, and wondered if he would ever been normal and fit again.

James was waiting when he came back to the bedroom. “I forgot your medication,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Have to manage sometime,” Q said, trying not to sound whiny. He picked up the laptop and hobbled over to the bed, waving away James’s help.

“Anything?”

“Let me look,” Q said, though he already knew. He opened the laptop and logged in, made a show of checking his emails. “Nothing yet.”

“You’re going to Medical tomorrow, aren’t you? I thought I might come with you. I have a couple of things to do in HR.”

“Why not? I might spend a couple of hours in Q-branch. Spread the Xmas cheer, that kind of thing.”

“Hang mistletoe?”

“I’ve banned it. One experience with the hidden camera and the exploding berries was one too many.”

“I missed that. I’m never there at Xmas if I can help it.”

“Where would you go if you weren’t working?”

James gave him a humourless smile. “I was always working. Made sure of it. There’s always something happening somewhere at this time of year.”

“True.” Q-branch didn’t stop working, that was for sure. Some staff were on holiday, but most, if not physically at their stations, were on call. Q tried not to abuse that privilege. He would work himself to death for Queen and country but he didn’t want to lose valuable staff because of his poor management. “But where would you like to go for a holiday? A real one? You can do that now.”

James rubbed his beard. Q had grown rather fond of the feel of it against his neck and face. “Australia? Never been there. No need. I hear New Zealand is nice, without all the poisonous animals.”

“Scared of snakes, James?”

“Deathly afraid of ‘em.”

“You and Indiana Jones.”

“Who?”

Q could never tell when James genuinely didn’t know a cultural reference, or when he was just winding Q up. “Wore a hat, carried a whip, went around breaking into sacred sites and stealing artefacts, called himself an archaeologist.”

“Oh, I’ve met that kind of ‘archaeologist’. Usually they’re selling off treasures to fund terror groups.”

“Indy sold his to meet women, I think. Usually female students.”

“Sounds like my kind of chap.” But James’s smile still didn’t reach his eyes. “Daniel...I’ve been thinking about us.”

Q’s heart flipped, but he kept his expression calm. “Stay, go, but don’t torture either of us about it, James. I knew what I was getting into, what the pitfalls might be. And where your tastes lay.”

“My tastes are nothing to do with this. I want you.”

“Then stop thinking. I want you too. The minute the doctors declared this crap,” he waved at his chest, “is done, then I’m booking a room in a posh hotel for a weekend so we don’t scare the cats and horrify Naomi, and I will damn well make you pay on all those promises. I have extremely high expectations, commander. After all, we’ve all seen you in action.”

“Think you could even handle that?” James’s smirk was intensely annoying. “You’re a twig of a thing.”

“Muscle bound oaf.”

“Wilting flower.”

Q threw the tissue box at him. “I’ll show you ‘flower’. I can outlast you.”

“No doubt. But there’s a difference between ‘this won’t hurt did it’ and the control that comes with...experience.” And there it was, James’s real smile.

“And untreated injuries.”

“That never slowed me down.”

“Oh? I thought you were just boasting about how slow you were, James. Tsk tsk, you can’t even keep your lies about your prowess straight.”

James pounced—carefully. “I’ll show you lies, you brat.”

Afterwards Q had to clean up since the nurse was coming at ten. There were things he didn’t want the nurse to see, just as he didn’t want James to see the unsexy side of torture aftermath. At least, not _again_.

He had work to do, and he had his people doing the running on Naomi’s stalker, but he kept hoping one of the many emails and messages he got during the day would announce a discovery. The stalker had disappeared after the encounter in Hampstead, so he’d probably had a car waiting nearby. The reality that Q’s beloved sister had come so very close to being kidnapped just outside their house made him shiver every time he thought of it.

It preyed on James’s mind too—how could it not? The question was, what was a sensible, proportionate response to such a threat in the eyes of sensible people, not to a man who cheerfully blew up whole installations and small states to finish his missions. Q needed a meeting with M and Bill Tanner. Pity he wasn’t in Six today. Tomorrow was Xmas eve, but the two men would be there. Over the holiday break, one or the other would be on hand at all times too, and Eve would doubtless be on call or physically in the building.

Naomi came home without incident. Her boss had taken her report seriously, and approved of the measures in hand. “Of course they will cooperate with MI6 on this,” she reported.

“Maybe you should carry a gun,” James said.

“Sometimes I do, overseas. Bit late to apply for a gun license this year though.”

“A taser then.”

She huffed irritably. “They’re illegal. James, just stop it. I don’t want to talk about this any more.” She walked out. Q heard her in the kitchen, crashing things about.

“Leave her alone,” Q said. “She’s not a child.”

“She had no idea what she’s up against.”

“Neither do we, so until we do, back off. She’s my damn sister. Do you really think I would put her at risk of this?” He pointed to his chest. “She’s home, she’s safe, and we can keep her that way until at least January. After that, we reassess.”

“They’d do a lot worse than that,” James said, keeping his voice low thankfully. “She’s a woman.”

“Thank you for reminding me, commander,” Q snapped. “I am of course completely unaware of what’s happened to our female agents and targets over the years. _Drop_ it.”

“Sir,” James said, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

_You can take the man out of James Bond, but you can’t take the 007 out of the man. Damn it._

Isaac suddenly yowled, as if in sympathy, and came running in to jump onto Q’s lap. “I know exactly how you feel, old man. _Exactly_.”

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Doctor Shah pronounced herself very satisfied by the rate of healing of Q’s injuries, but less so by his insistence that he wanted to reduce the level of pain relief. “Are you worried about addiction? Because there’s nothing in your profile which indicates this would be a problem, and we can help you manage any withdrawal symptoms.”

“I’m worried because of the effect on my thinking, my sleeping. I’m not as sharp.”

“No. But pain interferes with all that too, quartermaster. I strongly suggest you maintain the level you’re on now for a few days more, then we’ll reassess. You’re back at work in ten days. By then you will probably manage with ibuprofen during the day and something stronger at night if you want it.” At Q’s pained expression, she added, “Surely you do want to show yourself to be more sensible than our double-ohs?”

“I can do that in my sleep, doctor.” But he acquiesced, letting the nurse dress the injury again, and resupply him with what he needed at home. The next few days would be difficult emotionally and physically. He didn’t want to add intense agony to the list of things he had to bear while handling an angry sister and an unstable James.

His lover—could he call him that now?—had slept in his own room, and though he’d made breakfast and been polite, there had been no cheerfulness in his manner or his words. Q did and didn’t understand what was wrong, and as a man who instinctively hid his own pain from others, he didn’t know what to say to James to reassure him or open him up. To be truthful, he was a little afraid of what he might find if he did. James might be bisexual, but he had already admitted that women were his preference aesthetically, and perhaps sexually. And Q had little to offer besides hand jobs right now, though that should soon change. James was used to sex on tap. His libido, however dampened by Dr Swann’s murder, would be remarkable in a man ten years younger than Q, let alone in a man ten years older.

He couldn’t afford this. He didn’t have the mental energy to worry about James _and_ Naomi _and_ do a highly stressful job. Perhaps he should just let James walk away without a fight.

But that idea hurt worse than Blofeld’s soldering iron.

Q-branch applauded when he walked in, which was embarrassing and lovely all at the same time. “Thank you. Settle down. I’m not here for the day, but if there’s anything you want raised that can’t wait a week and can’t be dealt with in email, then my office door is open. Merry Xmas everyone. Now back to work.”

They applauded again, and this time Q flushed. He ducked into his office before he could betray how touched he was by their loyalty. He would never admit how much he missed being here, however pleasantly some of his sick leave had passed.

Jason came in shortly afterwards. “How are you doing, sir?”

“Perfectly well, Jason. How have _you_ been doing?” He and Peter Sandiford had been friends. Jason had been questioned extensively over that relationship. Q couldn’t have and wouldn’t have interfered in that, but he had been relieved that Jason had been authoritatively cleared.

“It’ll be good to have you back, sir, and that’s all I’m saying about that.”

Q grinned. “Understood. Now, be quick. I don’t know how long I can bear being here and I have to see M before I leave.”

Hw was gratified that his presence was not only welcome but necessary, untangling a development project that had been derailed by the loss of the traitors in their midst. The budget fight would begin again in January, and Jason had, quite obviously, been quietly shitting himself over the prospect of doing it without Q. Now he wouldn’t have to.

It was closer to three hours rather than two when Q called a halt. He was just about done in, and still hadn’t spoken to M and Bill. He’d have expected James to have come by before now, but perhaps James had been caught up in something as Q had done. He collected his papers and was about to let Eve know he was free, when a familiar voice spoke from the doorway. “So you really are here. Rumour had it that you’d died and left a robot to carry on.”

Eve stepped inside, carrying—wonderful woman—the cup of tea Q had been gasping for. He took it from her, unable not to wince. “You’re a lifesaver,” he murmured. “You didn’t call.”

“No. I’m a bitch. Actually I was just frantically busy and when I wasn’t, I was frantically seeing someone.”

“Someone nice?”

“Someone done. No staying power, darling.” She bent to kiss his cheek. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine as I can be. Have you seen James? The original one?”

“Yes, he stopped by to talk to M. He left an hour ago. Why?”

 _She doesn’t know._ Had James even updated his address? Why had M not told her? “No reason,” he said lightly. “Is M ready for me?” Why had James gone without him? Perhaps he was just out having a break. That had to be it.

“He sent me to collect you in person. He can come down here if you prefer.”

Q wished his pride would allow him to say ‘yes’, but instead, “No stairs, but I can manage if you let me hold your arm.”

“Just keep your hand off my arse, Q. I know what you agents are like.”

Q rolled his eyes and she laughed. The new digs, soon to be the old digs, Q hoped, were not well provided with lifts, but there was one that went straight from the other end of Q-branch to M’s floor. He just had to get to the other end. And for the sake of his own dignity, try to walk normally, even though everything pulled when he walked.

“Bloody hell,” Eve murmured as they navigated through the desks. “Didn’t they give you anything at all for the pain?”

“This is me _on_ drugs, Eve.”

“Good God.”

“Should have seen me two week ago. Pathetic.”

“I should have seen you. I’m sorry.”

“No need.” The fewer people who’d seen him as a wreck the better. “Come on, I’m fading here.”

M rose to greet him, to take his arm and lead him to a comfortable armchair like Q was an aged relative, beloved but frail. “How are you, my dear fellow?”

Q nearly choked at that. “I’m fine, sir. The doctors are happy, and I’m ecstatic.”

“Would you like a drink? No, you’re a tea person. Miss Moneypenny?”

Eve didn’t make tea or coffee for visitors. M was being _very_ solicitous, but Eve wasn’t a secretary. “I’m fine, sir, thank you.”

“Then that’ll be all, Miss Moneypenny. I’ll let you know when Q needs the car.”

“Sir.”

Q watched her leave. “I thought Tanner was meeting with us?”

“Bill and I talked about your situation this morning, with Commander Bond. Very concerning business.”

“You talked to Ja-Commander Bond before you spoke to me?”

M appeared to realise his mistake. “Ah, he did rather ambush us. But it was useful to have his opinion.”

Q’s anger was cold as a glacier, and his voice dripped icicles. “Which was, sir?”

“That he remove himself immediately from your residence and take over one of our safe houses for the interim until he finds appropriate accommodation. And until we resolve who is following your sister and why, that 007 replace him in your house, and act as guard for you both until at least the end of this holiday period. Six will of course provide transport and any additional security as you need it, Q. I can’t see any reason not to go with Bond’s suggestion.”

“Without talking to me,” Q said, the words landing like anvils. “You propose to install a trained assassin in my home and what, have him meet my parents for Xmas? Did it occur to you that my Jewish family might be a little bothered by a Muslim stranger in their home?”

“No, it didn’t, Q. I’m surprised _you_ think that it matters.” M’s voice was now as cold as Q’s.

“It doesn’t. They don’t care about that nonsense, and nor do I. But it could have. And what am I to tell Naomi?”

“That 007 needs a room and Commander Bond no longer does. Does it matter who pays the rent?”

James hadn’t told M about the rest of it. Which, if Q was honest, was just as well. “No, sir. But a double-oh brings their own risks.”

“But they are superior in dealing with them too. And you are far too valuable to lose or entrust to a lesser agent. The commander pointed that out himself. He said he is far from his top form, and not as sharp as he’d like to be. Thus, he thought 007 would be perfect.”

 _Sharp_. The word Q had used to Doctor Shah. “Then who am I to argue with that? When will 007 move in?”

“Now, if it’s convenient. I understand the commander has removed his belongings. He didn’t mention this at all?” M’s coldness softened.

“No, sir. But that’s him all over, isn’t it?” M winced at the truth of that observation. “But before I leave, I need to talk to you about my sister’s employer. I’m not sure SPECTRE is behind any of this.”

Half an hour later, Eve came in to help him to the transport dock. She threatened to take him to Medical instead.

“And what would they do, Eve? I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. Just get me to the lift, okay?”

He didn’t let her come down with him, promising to call instead when he got home. 007 waited for him in the car pool, outside the lift. “Quartermaster, I’m glad to see you again. Sorry about this mess.”

“Not your fault, major. Do you have your kit?”

“In the car. This way, sir.”

“Don’t, for heaven’s sake, call me ‘sir’ at home. I’m Daniel.”

“All right, Daniel.” 007 gave him one of those lavish, dreamy smiles. “I hope not to interfere too much with your plans.”

“Not at all. I’m more concerned about yours.”

“Not really our thing, Xmas.” And how many times had Q used that line to James? “Some of us go home because of the time off. I’m just happy not to be out of London for a change.”

“Then I’ll do my best to make it as pleasant as possible, 007. James,” Q amended. “Uh, Naomi may be a little hostile.”

“I’ll win her over,” 007 said with the confidence born of experience.

He probably would, Q thought. But who was going to win Q over?

“I hope you like cats,” he said as their driver took them away from headquarters.

“I love them,” 007 said. Then that was all right then.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Q emailed Naomi to let her know the situation, and to forestall a row when she arrived home. He also told her that James had left, it had been James’s decision, and that Q didn’t want to talk about it. Q was a coward, but not as big as James was. James had left a note on Q’s pillow. _I think this is for the best. J._ Perhaps a relationship less than a month old deserved nothing more, but it still felt like a slap.

But Q had taken more than slaps before, real and metaphorical, and he was damned if James Bond—any version of him—would be the undoing of him. So he threw away the piece of paper, showed 007 James’s former room, and said nothing of what more than a housemate James had been. James would never say a word, Q could rely on that.

Right now, he had work to do, and 007 could help. Sitting on the couch downstairs and ignoring his body’s cry for a rest, he explicitly laid out what Naomi did for a living and for whom she worked. Where she worked as well—the locations, the companies. None of that came from Naomi, but from M.

“What would kidnapping her achieve?” 007 asked. “Leverage?”

“Possibly. Her company would pay a ransom, most likely.”

“Would they give away information?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would _she_? If they....” 007 gestured politely to indicate Q’s injuries.

Q shuddered. “I would have. Eventually. Anyone would. Even you.”

“Even me,” 007 agreed. “But would anyone in her industry be that desperate? That ruthless?”

“Not her industry. The industries she works with. And yes, you know it. Blofeld would do it in a heart beat.”

“But Six can find no connection between SPECTRE and her clients. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“Doesn’t mean they _do_. I don’t believe SPECTRE controls everything no matter what Herr Blofeld claims.” Mentioning the name gave him a flashback to that farm kitchen, that night.

 _Naomi_.

“Q? Daniel.” 007’s hand was on his shoulder. How long had Q been away with the fairies? “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes. I’m just tired.”

“And injured.” 007’s expression was kind. Q didn’t need him to be kind. “We could do this upstairs if that’s—”

“No.” _Never_. “But let’s stop for a bit anyway. God, I haven’t thought about supper. James—the other one—was supposed to take care of it. And it’s bloody Xmas eve. Help me up. I have to check supplies.”

“Daniel, I can take care of that. I can even cook.”

“So can I. Please just let me do this in my own house. Thank you.”

007’s brown eyes, so warm and wide after James’s often cold, steely look, showed puzzlement at Q’s stubbornness, but the man had enough tact to shut up. To Q’s surprise, the fridge was stocked, and so was the cupboard. “He must have done the shopping,” Q murmured. The kitchen was spotless. _Guilt or habit_ , Q wondered.

“So he has. Do you need anything done?”

“You’re an assassin, 007, not a bloody maid. I don’t need a housekeeper.”

007, to his credit, didn’t snap back or walk away. “You’re an injured colleague dealing with a difficult and highly personal issue, sir. I’m doing the same as I would if we were in the field together.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Perhaps...I’ll just go upstairs. Nothing needs to be done here, but if you could chase up some of the ideas you’ve had about Naomi's situation, I wouldn’t object.”

“Of course I can, Daniel.”

“Thank you, James.”

The climb up the stairs felt like he was ascending Ben Nevis. He stumbled to the bed, took off his glasses, and lay down. He was asleep in seconds.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Q woke three hours later, feeling like he’d been hit over the head by a sack of rocks. He couldn’t bring himself to move or get out of bed. He heard Naomi laughing downstairs. So 007 had made good on that boast after all.

Q desperately wanted his James to walk in and say he was sorry, that he’d been an arsehole, that Q was more important to him than his own fears. Would never happen, of course. The double-ohs were never big on apology even when they were utterly in the wrong. And in this case, James undoubtedly felt he had done the right thing. Which he had, but in the most graceless way imaginable. Which was also him all over, Q thought.

He lay in bed not sleeping, not really even thinking. Too worn out by things to even work up a good temper about losing James and being railroaded into a ‘solution’ of James’s design, not his own. He wished he could just give up. For a bit, anyway.

The stairs creaked, and Naomi’s head appeared around the door. “Oh, you’re awake, finally. Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

She did so, closing the door and sitting on the bed. “How are you?”

“Tired. Not suicidal.”

“Good. I, uh, didn’t realise James...this James...didn’t know you and the other James were in a relationship.”

“Not any more.”

She put her hand over her heart. “Oh, Daniel. Because of me?”

“Absolutely not. Because of him, because of me, because of who we are and what we do. I gave it about two months from the start.”

“Not the impression I got.”

“One doesn’t say that kind of thing out loud. But it’s true.”

She nodded, picking at the bedspread. “He’s nice. This one, I mean. Gorgeous. Is he straight?”

“Enough for you, but don’t you dare. These guys are trained to break hearts. Love ‘em and leave ‘em is their motto.”

“Was James trained that way?”

“Yes, he was. And if you could not mention him again for at least a year, I’d be very grateful.”

“Okay. Shall I tell Mum that there’ll be three of us tomorrow?”

“Yes. You can’t travel on your own right now. The threat is real, even if we don’t know where it’s from, exactly. Have you had any other hints that someone’s after you?”

“No, but who can tell in the Xmas crowds?” She looked up. “You haven’t found that man?”

“No. Which is odd in itself. Uh, I had to tell James, this James, about your job. This could be directly related, and nothing to do with me or the other James at all.”

“I thought you’d told him. He was asking all kinds of questions. Politely though. I didn’t know if I should trust him.”

“Yes, please do. We should look at this all together. Have you eaten?”

She straightened up. “Just about to. Do you want something?”

“I should, I suppose. I can come down.”

“Wait. If you want to talk to me and James about work, why don’t I set up a small table in here? We can eat and talk, and you don’t have to move.”

Q grinned. “You’re a genius, Naomi.”

She poked him gently in the thigh. “Certified even, but so are you. I’ll get him to help.”

Q quickly checked there were no signs of his James or anything they had done together, but the bedroom was tidier than he remembered it. James again. Probably habit from his double-oh days, not to leave any evidence. Q wondered if he would ever be able to recover the generosity of thought towards the man that had so recently been so easy. Perhaps when he was more than twenty-four hours past being dumped like a high-school bike.

007 had made the main dish, Naomi the fruit crumble and custard for dessert. Q’s heart contracted a little seeing them banter like friend of years’ standing. Just like Q and Eve. Never like Q and James. Had they even been friends, let alone proper lovers? Already three short weeks of intimacy were a fading memory, as if it were a dream lost upon waking.

“Are you all right, Daniel?” Naomi peered at him.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just enjoying the food. Well done, both of you.”

“James is very quick in the kitchen. Very professional.”

“I have many talents, Naomi.” Even without the raised eyebrow the _other_ James would have added, 007 managed to make it sound vaguely filthy. Naomi grinned back at him. Q so hoped she wouldn’t fall for the charm. 007 wasn’t even doing it deliberately. _Probably_ not.

The table cleared of dishes, and with a pot of tea to keep them going, 007 brought out his own laptop, and Naomi her briefcase and tablet. She was adamant the company wouldn’t hand over secrets for any employee. “It would ruin them, and put every one of us there at risk. They don’t pay ransoms either. My boss made that clear yesterday. Once you go that way, you never stop.”

There was an abundance of possibilities, however, if it was _her_ knowledge someone wanted. They ran down her last six months’ worth of site visits, and her list of current clients, though she didn’t think this would lead anywhere. “I don’t think a recent one would be worth taking me for. My company would alert new clients and make changes to plans in progress.”

“She’s right. If it’s a system that’s in place and working, Naomi’s disappearance wouldn’t be immediately connected to that,” 007 said. “By the time it was, the damage could be done.”

“Go back two years then,” Q said. “What do you have?”

Naomi and 007 worked through the list. Q checked his emails. “We have a facial match. A Canadian, Alexis Henry.” He showed the others the photo.

“Could be him,” Naomi said. “I didn’t see him that clearly.”

“CCTV did,” 007 said. “What’s his ticket?”

“No police record. Ex-Canadian Army. Honourable discharge in 2010. No current employment recorded.” Q began a financial search which would take a few minutes to run.

“I haven’t done anything in Canada in the last five years,” Naomi said. “I mainly work in Asia, though I’ve done a little bit in America.”

“Russia?” 007 asked.

“Just the one client, two years ago. Naborovski Corp. Based in Samara.”

Q got another email. “More info on Alexis Henry. Mother is Russian, father a British academic who emigrated to Canada before their son’s birth.” He began the laborious, cautious process of interrogating the Russian security archives. It had become a lot harder to do this since Putin came back into power. “Tell us about Naborovski Corp.”

“They work in aerospace, mass transportation. Their main problem, apart from the risk of terrorism, was internal theft of plans and software. We set up monitoring and fail-safes to reduce the risk of employees taking data away and flogging it to their rivals. Of course, we had to also implement systems for better employee screening.”

She had done similar work in three other countries in the last two years. 007 started researching industrial espionage in all the companies she’d helped set up systems for in the last two years.

At some point, Q’s chest began to hurt. At first he ignored it, concentrating on finding the elusive Mr Henry and his possible links to Naomi. He was forced to pay attention when Naomi shouted at him, shaking him out of his mental loop. “Daniel!”

Q jerked, which bloody hurt. “What?”

“Did you take your pain relief? You’ve been wincing and sighing for about an hour now.”

Shit, it was already nearly eleven. “No, sorry. I’ll do that, but it’ll knock me out. 007, can you carry on a bit longer? We don’t know...what?”

“Um, I don’t think you were supposed to call him that in front of me,” Naomi said.

Q reviewed his words. “Bugger. Can you forget what I said?”

“Forget what?” She smiled at 007. “I think that’s a sign my brother is done for the night. Come on, big brother. I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“I’ll move the table,” 007 said. ‘Daniel, we should get Q-branch onto this.”

“Just a little more work before I do that, James. I want to know there’s something in it without haring off on a pointless chase. By tomorrow, we should have something if there’s anything to have.”

“It’s Xmas tomorrow,” 007 pointed out.

“Oh hell. We could skip it?”

“I already called Mum,” Naomi said. “And I don’t want you killing yourself over this.”

“We can start again when we get back,” 007 said, touching Q’s shoulder. “Go on. I can do this without help for a bit.”

“I’ll be awake a little longer,” Naomi said. “If you need me.” She smiled and 007 smiled back. Charmingly, of course.

Q groaned. He hoped they thought it was the pain, not his brain blowing a fuse at the idea of his sister being smitten with a bloody double-oh.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Q’s mother quietly shrieked when she saw her son being helped up the path by Naomi and 007. Admittedly Q looked more pitiful than usual, thanks to a late night and poor sleep. Without James to talk to about the nightmares and the night-driven fears, and this situation with Naomi, Q had spent too much of the night fretting and staring at his laptop, wondering if he should try and hurry things along and knowing it would only aggravate already stressed and busy people. He wouldn't bully them. It wasn’t like he was a double-oh.

Fortunately, once his mother had had a chance to express her dismay at length, settle Q into a comfortable chair from which he could not extract himself without help, and force a glass of wine on him which he wasn’t allowed to drink because of his medication, he was left in relative peace with his phone and tablet, while his mother turned her attention to Naomi and the handsome stranger with her.

Mum was a little puzzled by the appearance of her children’s new lodger who apparently was at a loose end over Xmas. She had accepted 007’s description of his work as ‘security’ and had been entertained by his description of an enormous and somewhat disastrous Chinese banquet in Hong Kong, while they ate a delicious lunch, and Q tried to stay alert so he didn’t make another stupid slip of the tongue.

Q’s dad kept giving him worried looks. “Accident at work, you said?”

“Liquid nitrogen spill. We shot the person who did it.” His dad laughed, never knowing Q was only half lying.

“Will you need plastic surgery, Danny?” Mum asked. “Not a skin graft, I hope.”

“No graft. I’ll be fine, Mum. The doctors are perfectly happy with me. I’ll be back at work next week.”

“Are you sure? You look very frail, doesn’t he, Sam? Naomi, tell me he doesn’t look frail.”

“He looks frail,” his treacherous sister said. “But that’s because we kept him up late last night talking. Maybe we shouldn’t stay too much longer.”

“But I never see you these days. You’re out of the country so much.”

Q sighed quietly and resigned himself to being allowed to escape after supper if he was lucky. He monitored the results from the Russian servers as they came in, and nearly jumped with excitement when another hit confirmed another alias for their man, and confirmed activity in Russia. “What’s wrong, Danny? Are you in pain?”

“Just a twinge. I’m all right. Could I have another glass of water, please?” While his mother’s back was turned, he mouthed ‘phone’ at 007, then sent a message to him. 007 had his phone on vibrate, and let it go for a bit before checking it, as if he was doing so routinely.

“Good job,” 007 texted back.

It wasn’t proof but it was more than enough to set Q-branch on a proper investigation of possible threats to Naborovski Corp. He sent a report to M, and a request to his own section to begin work. It could take a while and may come to nothing, but it felt so good to have something solid to work on.

His mother was merciful, finally, allowing them to leave after tea and cake. “Danny, you ring me soon. You too, Naomi.”

“Yes, Mum, I’ll try.” Q had been neglectful the last month or so, and had caused more worry than if he’d just fessed up about the cause of his injury.

In the car, Naomi tapped him on the shoulder. “Now what got you all excited?”

“Proved Russian connection,” 007 answered for Q.

“Can’t say more than that, sis.”

“You mean this might be all over soon?”

“Hope so,” Q said.

“Merry Xmas to us then.”

“ _Mazel tov_ ,” 007 said to her, and just like that, Q was back in the kitchen with James, bantering about their ‘types’, and feeling amazingly happy given the circumstances. Was it just over a month ago?

One day he would stop caring. Today was not that day.

“I am bloody knackered,” he announced as Naomi opened the front door. “Straight to bed for me.”

“I’ll help you up the stairs.”

“If you don’t mind, allow me, Naomi? I need a word with Daniel,” 007 said.

“Of course. Make sure you take your medication on time tonight, Daniel.”

“Will do.”

007 had strong arms—all the double-ohs had to have freakish upper body strength—but Q couldn’t help comparing his build to that of James, who was built on a sturdier model. Q couldn’t wait until he didn’t need help and could be trusted on stairs on his own. _Another week. Just one more._

“What’s on your mind?” Q asked, sitting on the bed. He would make no move to retire while 007 was around.

“None of what you found contradicts SPECTRE involvement. It could still be the commander they’re after, not her.”

“I’m aware of that, 007. But now we know who this bastard is, we have a better chance of finding out who he works for. And then we know which one of us is really the target.”

“Of course. I don’t suppose it matters much to Naomi who kidnaps her, if they do. Which they won’t, not while I’m around.”

“Glad to hear it. Speaking of Naomi, can I please ask you not to date, seduce, or flirt too enthusiastically with her? It can’t end well, given your job.”

“I know that. And of course. I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression. It would be a terrible breach of your hospitality.”

Q made a face. “‘Breach of hospitality’ could be your predecessor’s middle name. You’re not him, I know. But, I’d still appreciate it if you wouldn’t.”

“I swear she’s safe from me.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with the commander.”

Q didn’t want to talk about it. “QED, I’m afraid. I don’t date co-workers for that reason.” Although Q _had_ planned to break that rule.

“Nor I. They take fraternisation very seriously in the Army.”

“Bond—James, I mean the commander—treated it as a perk of the job. Too many agents do. Then we department heads have to clean up the mess.”

“I won’t do that. Do you need anything else?”

“Bring me the head of Alexis Henry?”

007 grinned. “I’ll do my very best. Good night, sir.”

“Good night, 007. Well done today, by the way. But you can’t date my mother either.”

“Damn, and I thought I might be in with a chance there.”

The cats came in as 007 left. Isaac was still a little distraught at the absence of his new favourite cat warmer. Moses had remained faithful to Q, and was much less bothered. Q gave them both a cuddle. They weren’t a mere substitute for human companionship. They were much better. All they wanted was food, shelter, and undivided attention. Easier than former double-ohs any day of the week.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Q strode into Q-Branch at eight am on the Monday after New Year. This time, it was business as usual, apart from the “Welcome back, sir” from his people as he walked past. He was fit to work, and he would damn well prove it.

“Right, where are we at? Jason? Sadhika? My office, please.”

He felt...not perfect...but in charge of his body and himself. Now he could get on properly with putting the events of last year behind him and just be the best bloody head of Q-branch the world had ever seen.

004 was in Ukraine. 007 had been called off pet-sitting over the weekend to deal with a nasty mess in Thailand. 001 and 002 were undercover in Istanbul. 005 and 006 had not been replaced. 005 would not be returning to duty. She was to be medically retired, legendary double-oh healing abilities not enough to overcome what had been done to her. Q thought of her with endless sympathy, but at least she was getting out alive. Very few did.

Just as he was finished, Bill Tanner knocked on his door. “Welcome back, Q.”

“Thank you, Tanner. Thank you, Jason, Sadhika, carry on. Come in, Bill.”

Bill closed the door and took a seat. “You look a damn sight better than you did a week ago.”

“I feel a damn sight better. Any movement on the Naborovski situation?”

“Slow, but some. You may have uncovered something big there. Amazing luck that your sister wasn’t taken.”

“I’m very grateful, as you can imagine.” The little jolt to his heart every time he thought of it would take years to go away, though.

“007 mentioned to us that she might be an ideal recruit for us. Our industrial espionage section is a bit light at the moment. Would she be interested? Not field work, I hasten to add.”

Q had to stop and think. “The travel is getting to her a bit, and with this last business, she might be receptive. Do you want to approach her or should I mention it?”

“Ask her if I can call her and invite her in for a chat. I take it you wouldn't object to her being here as well.”

“I’m not going to stand in the way of my sister’s career, provided she isn’t being put in the line of danger. More in the line,” he amended. “I’d be relieved, tell the truth.”

Bill smiled. “I thought as much. Run into Bond yet?”

For a couple of seconds, Q couldn’t work out what he meant. “Ah. Starts today, doesn’t he?”

“He came in last week to help brief on the Istanbul situation. He’s been working with your team on some things they’ve been testing. We thought we may as well officially attach him to Q-branch, and borrow him as and when required. Is that all right with you? There are no budgetary implications, as M is making special arrangements. You’d be his line manager.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Q said, proud of how coolly he spoke.

“Excellent.” Bill stood. “You have been missed, Q. Better start lining up a worthy replacement if you plan to go into the field again.”

“Not bloody likely,” Q said with a grin. “On both counts.”

“M would like to see you this morning if you have time. Just to catch up. Eve’s secretary will call you to make a time.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

James—no, Commander Bond—in Q-branch. Oh well, Q had planned to be completely professional anyway. This would reinforce the need. He refused to fret in any way about it.

Susan brought him a mug of tea after Bill left, and someone else brought one an hour later. Q smiled. His people knew him so well. And they had left him a lovely little hacking problem to deal with. His favourite pastime.

He had just traced the problem back to source and left them a _nasty_ little surprise, when someone knocked on the doorframe. Q looked up. James. “Yes, commander?”

“Welcome back, Q.” He still had the beard and glasses, but was dressed somewhat more casually than in his double-oh days. Nice jacket and slacks, no tie. He looked good. Q refused to think about it.

“Thank you. I take it my people have you occupied?

“Yes. Weapons testing, mostly.”

“Excellent. Well, carry on, commander.”

He looked down, fully expecting the man to take the hint from his boss and leave. Instead, he heard the door close, and James say, “Daniel, I need to talk to you.”

Q looked up, gave the man the benefit of his iciest stare for three seconds, then said, “Commander Bond, you will address me as ‘Q’ or sir. And I will talk to you by appointment unless it’s urgent. Now get out. Leave the door open.”

“Q...when _will_ you be free to talk?”

“I believe the 12th of never has an opening.”

James blinked behind his horrible glasses. “Sir,” he said, and walked out.

Q reached for his tea mug. His hand hardly shook at all.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

The chat with M was amicable. They discussed his health (decent to good), the budget (tricky), replacing the two double-ohs (difficult) and the need for on-going protection for Naomi and Q himself while the Naborovski situation was still unresolved (unfortunately necessary). “I take it 007’s presence wasn’t too burdensome.”

“No, sir, but I believe it’s unnecessary now. So long as we have someone to accompany her, or me for that matter, on brief excursions outside the house, and the drivers until we know what’s happening, I think we’ll be fine. If you want someone to live in the house, I’ll bow to that. A double-oh is overkill, in my opinion.”

“Hmmm.” M had a glass of Scotch on his desk. Q thought of James’s words on the subject, and wondered if M needed to drink to sleep at night. “We haven’t addressed the fact that you, personally, are now on Blofeld’s radar, and thus on SPECTRE’s. Our moles did a lot of damage.”

“You can’t give me a bodyguard, unless you plan to do so for every middle rank manager and above, sir. We should prepare for the possibility of kidnap or murder and just get on with our jobs.”

“A body guard for our Q is not excessive, but,” as Q opened his mouth to protest, “perhaps unneeded. I think it’s appropriate to assign you a driver on a permanent basis as you require one, and for Naomi if you judge it necessary again. However, in your copious spare time, Quartermaster, would you please draw up a plan to deal with the possibility of your senior staff—or you—being removed or compromised by anyone, especially SPECTRE? We have been caught woefully off our guards too many times.”

“This sort of thing is my sister’s speciality, actually.”

“So I understand. We would be open to consulting with her, or hiring her outright, as Tanner has already explained. But until then, please go ahead.”

“Yes, sir. Was there anything else?”

“Commander Bond settling in well?”

Q kept his voice and expression under the tightest control. “Apparently. I’ve only spoken to him briefly. His abilities are being suitably exploited. That’s all that matters.”

M gave him one of his patented unreadable looks. “Of course. Thank you for coming up, and thank you also for your efforts while you were still injured.”

“For Queen and country, sir. As always.”

A small, guarded smile from M. “Quite. Good day, Q.”

Eve was back at her desk when Q came out. “Welcome back. Are you all right?”

“I’m absolutely terrific, Miss Moneypenny.”

“Good, then you can have lunch with me. No excuses, Q.”

“Very well. One o’clock. Canteen?”

“Pub. Better food.”

“True. See you then.”

Q leaned against the elevator wall, rubbing his chest. The pain was much, much better than it had been over Xmas, but the scars still pulled. He had stopped the opiates and was now on ibuprofen which, unfortunately, just wasn’t as effective when the pain was bad. He would _not_ take more time off. The agents worked with broken bones. He could manage a few scars.

“Q?”

The lift doors had opened, and James stood there with a worried expression. “Are you all right? Let me help—”

“Stand aside, commander,” Q snapped.

“Q, you look—”

But how he looked, Q didn’t wait to hear about. He walked off down the corridor, and went straight to his office. “A CBE and a Mars bar to anyone who brings me a cup of tea,” he said loudly on his way. Three people jumped to their feet. He grinned a little. He hoped his stock of bribes had outlasted his sick leave.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

“So, James Bond in the house. Dish, Daniel.”

Q calmly cut his lamb cutlet. “Nothing to tell. He was a perfect gentleman. Naomi approved.”

“And you?”

“Of course. He even cooked for us.”

“I’ve never had a chance to see a wild double-oh in a domestic situation.”

“They’re just people.” He took a bite of his meat before answering. “Very deadly people.”

“How did he cut up steak? Use his laser pen?”

Q laughed. “Not quite. He did say our kitchen implements was a bit old fashioned. I was thinking of getting Q-branch to look into it, maybe do a field friendly version.”

“MI6 could have its own gift shop. Bond could do advertisements. ‘Licensed to grill’, maybe.”

“That’s bloody horrible, Eve.”

“It’s brilliant. The old one might be better than the new one though. Since he has more time on his hands.”

“You mean, use that famous sexual magnetism to pull in the customers? I think it’s a bit overrated myself.” He ate some more meat to hide the fact he was lying through his teeth.

“Oh, I don’t know. He was all right as far as I was concerned.”

“Do tell,” Q said, meaning the opposite.

“It was in Macau. I was there as his backup. And we had an evening free before we met the target. So....”

Q did everything possible to not give her the impression of wanting her to continue. It didn’t work.

“He was shaving when I got there. So I...finished him off.”

“Indeed.” He attended to his peas. Very important, were peas.

“Daniel, you’re embarrassed.”

“Maybe not the time and place for it, Eve.”

“No one is listening. Half of them are ours anyway.” She leaned forward. “He was _amazing_ in bed.”

“Lovely for you. Perhaps now he’s no longer an operative, you could make a dash at him again.”

“No way. He’s too old now. Maybe the new one.”

“Tanner never gave you that little talk about the double-ohs then?”

“Too late,” she said cheerfully. “And it’s not like I didn’t know. Most of the agents are randy little buggers. I was.”

“Sorry I can’t help you out then.” He tried to smile. “Have you recovered the Aston Martin yet?”

“Bond’s? No. It was destroyed by fire by the time we got there. You know who again, we think.”

“That bastard.” Now Q was angry, even more than after his own handling by the man. “I put hundreds of hours into that car. It was beautiful. He had no bloody right!”

“Daniel, calm down.” She put her hand on his. “No, he didn’t. But then he had no right to do that to you either, and you’re beautiful too.”

“Eve.”

“You are. In your own, geeky, skinny, white boy way.” Q managed a grin at that. “He wanted to destroy anything Bond owned.”

“He didn’t own _me_.”

“Part of his team. He owns everything and everyone when he’s on a mission.”

“Now I’m _his_ boss.”

“Yeah. Funny how that goes. Another drink?”

Q looked at his watch. “Should be getting back. I promised Naomi I’d leave at five today, and every day this week. She was quite insistent on it.”

“Good for her. You two should come to dinner with me soon.”

“You and a plus one?”

“Maybe.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “Come on.”

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

An afternoon at his desk, a brief but exciting equipment demonstration that ended with a fire extinguisher and a broken desk, and a trip to Medical for a check up and resupply, brought Q to the end of his energy, and, by happy chance, to five o’clock. On the way home he remembered they needed milk. Damn it. He texted Naomi, and thought about how he was going to have to get to grips with home delivery. To a safe address naturally, and then by MI6 driver to his house. It was all a bloody nuisance, and it could go on for months, possibly permanently. If he had Blofeld in front of him right now, Q wasn’t sure he would be able to restrain himself from pulling out his Glock and shooting the bastard in the balls. Not the head, not first, anyway.

Leftovers for supper. Not a hardship since they were from 007’s last meal with them, frozen for a night when Q and Naomi were too tired to cook. Tonight counted. By the time he showered, he didn’t even have enough energy to start reheating them. He wasn’t sure he would make it up the stairs without help, though he was determined to. All he’d done was sit down and talk to people and work at his computer. How could he be this shattered after such an easy day?

Naomi came home at seven and found him sitting in the kitchen, looking at his tablet. “Got the milk, you look terrible. Hello, Daniel.”

“Hello, sis, how was your day?”

“Not kidnapped, so we’re ahead. What _are_ you doing?”

“Home shopping. This is a horrible website.”

“Let me do it then. You, go to bed.” She went to put the milk in the fridge.

“In a bit. Fancy working for MI6?”

She stood with the milk in her hand, fridge door open. “What?”

“Not a joke. They seem to think you would be an excellent recruit.”

“You mean, like James?”

Q didn’t ask which one. “No. Industrial espionage. Discovering it, stopping it, preventing it.”

“Oh. Pay?”

“Didn’t discuss it. Interested?”

She put the milk in the fridge and closed the door. “Maybe. Wow. I didn’t see that coming. Did you put them up to this?”

“No, our house guest did. The latest one. Are you? Interested, I mean.”

“Wouldn’t do to talk, I suppose.”

“When?”

“Evenings? By phone?”

“Done.” Q texted Bill, gave him Naomi’s number and her availability. “Now I can go to bed. Leftovers are defrosted.”

“Thanks. Daniel, you really do look worn out.”

“I’m fine. First day back and all that.”

“Was James there? Your James? He said he would be working with you, possibly.”

“He was there.” At her expression, he added, “It was _fine_ , Naomi. We’re professional adults.”

“Of course you are.” She shook her head. “You are going to be the death of me, brother.”

“I hope not. Don’t worry about food. I’m too tired and I had a big lunch.”

“Then eat breakfast!” she called after him.

“Yes, Mum.”

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

The week continued that way, with slow improvements in Q’s stamina. By Friday, Q concluded he really was okay, and that he wasn’t letting Q-branch down by being less than optimal. It didn’t mean that the weekend off wasn’t welcome. Naomi was spending the night at their parents’ house, then she had an interview at Six on Saturday. Q was cautiously hopeful she might accept a position there. He didn’t like the places her company sent here to, and even less so now.

He even had the energy to cook. Well, reheat a ready meal and put it on a plate like a civilised person. The cats sniffed the air and decided that Sainsbury’s cottage pie wasn’t to their refined tastes, and went off to have another go at their gourmet chicken dinner instead. Grand-mère would probably have done the same thing. Q thought for the benefit of not having to make it himself, it wasn’t bad.

The doorbell went, which meant him getting up and fetching his tablet so he could check the camera. _Oh no, you don’t._ The _cheek_ of the man.

He went out to the front door, flung it open and prepared to tear a strip off his unwanted visitor. An enormous box of chocolates being thrust at him forestalled his rant. “Congratulations, you smashed a terrorist ring.”

Q gaped at James. “What? Why are you here?”

“It’s the twelfth of never. Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Can you come out?”

“No! What are you doing here?”

“Please...Daniel. Give me a chance to talk. Just talk. I won’t stay or cause a problem.”

“I should report you. I should call the police.”

“Yes, maybe you should. Please?”

Q turned and left the door open. He did _not_ accept the chocolates.

James followed him into the kitchen. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your supper.”

Q sat. “It’s what people do when they come home from work. How did you know Naomi wasn’t here?”

“I...didn’t?”

“Oh. Put those damn things down. Why are you buying me chocolates?”

“I told you. Naborovski Corp. Your work led to Six smashing a terrorist ring planning to infiltrate the facility and carry out attacks from it. You should have an email.”

Q looked at his tablet and switched to email. “Oh. Right. Well, you’ve told me, so bugger off.”

James conspicuously failed to leave. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“I thought I made it clear to you I didn’t want to talk to you about...anything else.” He concentrated on eating, pretending James wasn’t watching every move.

“You don’t have to talk. Let me.”

“You had your chance. You ducked it.”

“Yes. I...Daniel, I wanted you safe more than I wanted you to forgive me.”

Q pushed his plate away. “I don’t blame you for that. I don’t even mind that you thought 007 would be better. What I _minded_ was you taking charge and making decisions like I was a bloody _child_ , embarrassing me in front of M by not telling me what you were up to, and then not even having the fucking decency to come and tell me in person. I’ve thought many things about you over the years I’ve known you, and a lot of them pretty unkind, but I never thought you were a _coward_.”

James flinched. “I am, when it comes to people I lo...care about.”

“I know losing Madeleine made you gun shy but I’m not—”

“It’s nothing to do with her.” James stood and walked to the other end of the kitchen, staring at the laundry door. If he opened it, Isaac would be in ecstasy. Isaac would have to live with disappointment. “I just...I’ve lost too many,” he mumbled. “One more...losing you...I can’t bear it.” He turned. “I’m sorry. I thought I could tell you but...I’m not good at this.”

“Come and sit.” Q kicked out a chair from the table. “Commander, do as I say.”

James jerked, and reflex made him obey, but he wouldn’t look at Q. “I can bear seeing you every day. I can bear you hating me. I can bear it because you’re alive, Daniel. I can’t apologise for that. I wish...I wish I had been brave enough to confront you about it but I was afraid you would find a way to talk me into staying, leaving you and Naomi at risk.”

“And yet, as we have discovered, it’s not all about you at all. You were wrong.”

“This time. Not next time.”

“I was entitled to decide that for myself.”

“And Naomi? You didn’t tell her the truth, and you wouldn’t tell me what she did, so I had nothing to go on but SPECTRE and Blofeld.”

Q opened his mouth, closed it. This was true. And he’d refused several times to tell James what Naomi’s job was. “You ran out on us. You were all the protection we needed.”

James’s lips thinned. “You said it yourself. I’m clapped out, no longer a double-oh, no longer at the top of my game. 007 is the best we have, and I wanted nothing but the best for you both. Was it that bad?”

“No. He was very nice to us both. He didn’t scare Naomi like you did.”

“Then I did the right thing.” He looked around. “I guess I should go. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Who were they? The people you lost. M, do you mean?”

“She’s one. I had good friends die. Other agents.”

“A lover?”

“Yes.” The word was faint. “She betrayed me and she died at the hands of those she betrayed me for, but I loved her and she’s dead. I watched her die. Drown. I can’t talk about her.”

A name came back to Q from the files he’d read when he had just taken on the job of head of Q-branch. “Lynd? Treasury official gone rogue?”

“Vesper.” James’s voice was now a whisper. “Bitch.” But he wiped at his eyes, then took his glasses off to clean them with a handkerchief.

“Don’t do that, you’ll scratch them.” Q went to the kitchen counter and found a microfiber cloth. “Use that.”

James obeyed, his head down, eyes obscured. Q found his anger, the rage that had sat quietly, painfully in his chest under the burns, had evaporated. “You should have told me.”

“I might have. We didn’t have time. I never have the time,” he added, words sour as battery acid.

“You have time now. James, I can’t trust you not to take charge and bully your way through my needs and opinions and authority just because you know best. I can’t live like that. We're both dominant characters.”

“I can’t change. I’ve been trained for twenty-five years to lead, take responsibility, to protect. I’ve been trained to take failure as something to fix at all costs. I can’t fix it if you die, when they die. I should stick to other agents, I suppose.”

“Eve was certainly waxing lyrical about your prowess the other day.”

James shook his head, smiling a little. “She’s kind. And quite amazing herself.”

“Kind? She shot you.”

“She did what she had to do. We all do. Can you forgive me at least?”

Q thought about it. “Yes. If we had waited until I was better...things might have worked out differently.”

“I was greedy. All I could see was the possibility of...being happy. I’m a bloody fool.” He stood. “I’ll see you next week at work, I hope. Just in time to have me sacked.”

“Count on it. James...perhaps we could have dinner some time?”

James’s eyes lit up, but then he grimaced. “SPECTRE.”

“Bugger SPECTRE. M says I’m on their radar now anyway, whether I’m with you or not. So having dinner with you means I have a bodyguard I wouldn’t otherwise have, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” James smiled again. “My pick?”

“You pick, I pay.”

“If I’m getting the sack, you’ll have to.”

“Of course. Tomorrow night. Pick me up at seven. I expect to be impressed.”

“I’ll do my best. But I should go. You look tired.”

“I am. But I’m fine.”

“You’re better than fine.” James hesitated. “Can I kiss you?”

Q tilted his face, and James brushed his lips on Q’s cheek. “Thank you,” James whispered.

“Don’t be late tomorrow.”

“No, sir. Good night.”

“Go. I need to lock up.”

James smiled, and walked towards the front door. Q caught up with him, and touched his face before James stepped outside. “I wish I had known,” he said quietly.

“So do I. See you tomorrow. Wear a tux if you own one.”

“I do. Bring a corsage.”

James grinned, and Q closed the door behind him.

_Bloody hell._

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

“You’re going to dinner with James.”

“Yes, Naomi.”

“With _James_. The man who broke your heart.”

“I found some superglue.”

“Daniel.”

“Sorry, sis. It’s just dinner. We have things to talk about. By the way, Naborovski was the target, and Six smashed the terrorist ring Alexis Henry was part of. I can’t say more than that.”

“Oh my god. Really?” She threw her arms around his neck. “Freedom!”

“For a bit anyway. There are things I have to talk to you about, and a lot depends on whether you come to work with us or not. So be careful, and use the driver this weekend until we sort it out.”

“I will. Daniel, you are brilliant, you know.”

“I did know, actually.” He kissed her cheek. “Now, let me finish. I told him not to be late. I don’t want to be the one who is.”

Twenty minutes later, precisely at seven, the doorbell rang. Q opened it. “Good evening, Mr Bond.”

“Good evening, Daniel, and my God, you wash up well.” James held out a plastic box. “As requested.”

“Thank you. Come in.”

James entered, and Daniel offered his face for a kiss. “You look good too, but we already knew that.”

“Can’t help genetics,” James said. “Shall I help you with that?”

James wore a single yellow orchid in his buttonhole. He had bought Q a pink one, just as perfect and delicate. Naomi came down the stairs as James was fixing it to Q’s jacket. “There you are, you tosser.”

“Good evening, Miss Gelberg.”

“Don’t you ‘Miss Gelberg’ me.” She came over and stood with her hands on her hips. “You better not do that again.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Q dragged James’s attention back to him. “Naomi, leave him alone. We have things to talk about.”

“I’m sure you do.” She kissed James’s cheek, to the man’s evident surprise. “You look fantastic. You both do. Can I take a photo?”

“Er, better not,” James said.

Q imagined MI6’s reaction to Naomi posting said photo on Facebook, and had to agreed with James. “Sorry, sis. Better safe than sorry.”

“Poo. Oh well. Tell me when to expect you.”

“I’ll text you,” Q said. “James? Shall we?”

The driver took them to Knightsbridge. “Where are we going?”

“Zuma. Japanese. I hope that’s all right.” James actually looked worried. How sweet. “You mentioned you’d had it before.”

“I have, and it’s lovely.”

James smiled and touched his hand. Q clasped it firmly. No point in pretending he wasn’t half gone on this man already.

James held the restaurant door. “Only because of the you know what,” he said.

“Of course. Thank you.”

The place was full, but it was Saturday night, so what else did Q expect? He liked the décor of plain wood, stone and leather. Not too fussy, the way he preferred it. The waiter bowed and led them over to a table in the corner. “Very cosy,” Q said.

“Is it all right?”

“It’s fine. Perfect. Stop worrying. I’m not some restaurant virgin.”

James grinned. “Not any kind, I would say.”

Water and tea were a given. “Sake?” James asked. “It’ll be the good stuff.”

“Never had it.”

“Then you should, at least once.” He spoke to the waiter in Japanese for quite some time, then turned to Q. “He recommends the taster menu. It’s here.” James pointed to the listing.

Q didn’t look. “You choose. I can eat anything and I don’t know the food well enough.”

“All right. May I suggest the sake too?”

“If you like. I’m happy not to drink.”

“It’s about as strong as wine, and we can share a small bottle.” He spoke to the waiter, who bowed, and went away. “Tea is good with this kind of food, but good sake is a treat.”

“I’m happy to try anything you like.”

James lifted an eyebrow which made Q laugh. “I thought you’d take it that way.”

“Then I did what I was told to, boss.” He lifted his water glass in salute. “Am I to be sacked on Monday?”

“Thinking about it,” Q lied. To tell the truth, he had no intention of doing a damn thing except going where this might take them. “Fresh start?”

“If we can.” James lowered his glasses to look at Q. “God, you’re lovely.”

“James, no damselling.”

“I’m not. In that suit, in this light, I could eat you from top to toe.”

“Promises, promises.”

“How’s the chest?”

“Better. Still dressed, nothing like as sore. Flexibility almost restored.”

James leaned in. “You’re a fucking tease,” he whispered.

“One does one’s best.”

The sake was cold, to Q’s surprise. “You don’t drink good sake hot,” James explained. The waiter poured for them. James lifted his cup. “ _Kanpai_.”

Q lifted his own. “ _L’Chaim_.”

The drink was slightly sweet, smooth, and clean on his tongue. It also had a kick, though Q was admittedly a lightweight. “Wow. I can feel that in my toes.”

“Nice, isn’t it?” James set his cup down, half empty. “There’s some gawdawful stuff around. You need to do your homework if you want to buy it at home.”

“Or spend a lot of time in Japan.”

“Or that. You’d love it.”

“I would not love the flight. Twelve hours to Tokyo. I’d rather go to Brighton.”

“Not _quite_ the same.”

“Brighton has its good points. And a lively gay scene.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I could show you.”

“Maybe.”

And that didn’t mean “not on your life” either, Q thought. _Hmmm_.

The food came and Q fell in love with Japanese cuisine almost as hard as he had for Ruichi at University. He moaned pornographically over the fried squid.

“Would you like me to leave you alone with that?” James was openly watching him and laughing at Q’s reaction.

“It’s so good.”

“I suspect it’s not kosher.”

“I don’t care.”

He worked his way enthusiastically through all the plates, fortified with green tea and the occasional sip of sake. James watched with amusement, occasionally shaking his head. “Leave room for dessert.”

“There is _always_ room for dessert.”

“I have no idea where you’re putting it. You ought to look as if you’re nine months pregnant.”

“Watch it. No size remarks allowed tonight.” _Hmmm_. He might even be ever so slightly tiddly. “Are you sure sake isn’t that strong?”

“Fifteen percent alcohol, this one is. Less than sherry. You’ve had the equivalent of a large glass of wine.”

“Then I must be drunk on the company. Or the food. Maybe the food.”

“Must be,” James said, grinning at him. “Lightweight.”

“Excuse me, I’m a thoroughbred. A pleasant looking one even.”

“I was wrong about that,” James murmured.

Dessert was as delicious as the rest, though Q was curious about the egg custard. “It’s usually savoury,” James explained. “It’s not what your mother would make.”

“I like it. Do you cook this stuff?”

“No. I prefer to leave it to the experts because I can never create something as good as they do. I know my strengths.”

“We all know yours.”

“Do you, Daniel? Or do you just know what I fake well?”

Q started to answer, then stopped. No, he didn’t know James well. “I know there’s a lot I have no idea about. Will I get the chance to find out?”

“If you want to. I could say the same about you. You’re as closed in as I am. You don’t reveal your weaknesses.”

“Wise in a dangerous world, don’t you think?”

“Yes. But it drove Madeleine crazy. Since it was her job to get people to open up, I mean. She considered me one of her great failures.”

“Nice of her,” Q snapped, suddenly angry at the presumption of the dead woman.

“She didn’t really understand. But then, I don’t expect a civilian to do so. You do.”

“I’m not a civilian.”

“Exactly. Now, would you like a coffee?”

“I’m full. Have one if you like.”

“No, I’m fine. I was...just trying to prolong the evening.”

Q thought about suggesting they go back to his house for coffee, but he hesitated to do that. He was enjoying this slow dance. “We can do this again.”

“I hope so.”

Q signalled for the bill, and paid it without James making a token protest. “Your turn next time,” Q said. “I’ll pick, you pay.”

“Of course. Shall we go then?”

“I suppose we should.”

James called the driver who was waiting nearby, and who whisked them through the Saturday night traffic on Park Lane with regrettable speed. “Is your new place close to work?”

“Yes. Walking distance.”

Q wanted to ask if James liked it better than the house, but that would be crass. “You worked over Xmas?”

“Always work to do. M had me looking at the Russian situation as well.”

Q hadn’t known that, but of course James had something to contribute there. “Then the chocolates should be shared.”

“I can buy more. Usually I’d buy a bottle of champagne....”

“Chocolates are better. Naomi was delighted.”

James’s face crinkled in a smile, the streets lights giving fleeting glimpses of his expression as the car passed them. “I’m glad. I’m sorry I upset her.”

“It was an awful situation, and quite as bad as we were afraid of. And you softened her up for the other Bond. By comparison, he was as threatening as Isaac with a full belly.”

“He’s as lethal as I am. Was.”

“Isaac?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Daniel. You don’t do it well.”

Q grinned. James reached for his hand, and held it all the way to Hampstead.

He climbed out after Q at the gate. “Walk you to the door?”

Q led the way. At the doorstep, he stopped. “I had the most wonderful time tonight. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. For giving me a chance. May I kiss you?”

Q stood still. James brushed Q’s lips with his own. Q wrapped his arms around James’s shoulders and pulled him in tighter, demanding more. James obliged, his knee slipped between Q’s thighs, rubbing against Q’s crotch and forcing a groan from his throat. “You’ll kill me,” Q whispered.

“Only if you want me to,” James said. He broke off the kiss and laid his forehead on Q’s. “Don’t let me be an arse again. Fight me. I need to be slapped awake sometimes.”

“Oh, I’d like that.” He kissed James again. “Go or I’ll come in my pants.”

“Can’t have that.” He stroked Q’s cheek and stepped back. “See you at work?”

“Of course, commander. Same time next week?”

“It’s a date. Good night, Daniel. Stay safe.”

Q waved. It hurt to see him go, but to know they would do this again...and again, and maybe more....

He unlocked the front door, went inside, closed it and leaned against it with a sigh. It had been so long since he had felt this bloody good.

“Daniel?”

Naomi came down the stairs. “Where’s James?”

“Gone home. It’s all right. We have a date next Saturday.”

“Dating? But you’ve been sleeping together.”

“Yes. We did it the wrong way around. Now we’re doing it right.”

“Are you happy?”

“Can’t you tell?”

She took his hands and smiled. “You look better than you have done in months. Years, even. I hope he doesn’t fuck this up.”

“It wasn’t just him.” Q let got of her hands. “Let me change and we can have some tea. Maybe even one of those chocolates.”

“Sounds lovely.”

And if Q imagined a dark, sweet truffle being handfed to him by James in bed, well that was between him and his dirty mind alone.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, commander. Good weekend?”

“Very satisfying, sir.”

“Excellent. Carry on, commander.”

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Q chose a gastro pub in Highgate. “I’m so out of touch, I had to use internet reviews,” he warned. “I’ll pay if it’s awful.”

“Wouldn’t hear of it. If they do decent beer, I’ll be happy.”

They did and James was, and the food was satisfying without any pretension. James produced his credit card and paid without the smallest hesitation. “Not as posh as Zuma,” Q said, not sure if his well-travelled companion had truly enjoyed it.

“Daniel, it was lovely. Don’t harsh my mellow.”

Q burst out laughing. “’Don’t harsh my mellow’? Enjoying your second childhood, are you, commander?”

“I’m trying to be down and hip with what all the kids today are into. You know, be groovy and cool and like, psyched.”

Q pulled a face. “Keep that up and I’m calling Medical for a van and a net. It’s horrible. Go back to granddad mode.”

“You wound me. I’m not nearly old enough to be your father.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you to start early, James. Anyway, you probably remember disco.”

“The only time I’ve been in a disco was when I was chasing someone.”

“Catch them?”

“Of course. Let me guess. You went to raves and took ecstasy and listened to trance music.”

“Nope. Britpop, hip-hop.”

“Lady goo goo?”

“Lady Ga Ga, and what’s wrong with her?” James screwed up his face in disgust. “Snob.”

“Philistine.”

“Let me guess. Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, anything with a ‘baby baby ooh ooh’ in it.”

James lifted his eyebrow in a way now very familiar to Q. “You’re treading dangerously close to a public spanking, young man.”

“Watch it, Grandpa. Your credit history is but a click away from nuclear destruction.”

“You’re just defensive about your appalling taste in music.”

“Do you ever listen to yourself, commander? Forty-eight going on eighty. I bet you like to shake your booty from time to time.”

“I like my drinks shaken, and my booty stirred, thank you.”

“You have such a filthy mouth.”

James smiled, dirty and slow. “Oh you have _no_ idea what I can do with my mouth, Mr Gelberg. Another coffee?”

“I’m good. Time to go home.”

“You could....”

“What?”

“Come back to my place?”

Q was tempted, he truly was. “No. I have plans. We’re not there yet.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t, James. Look at me.” James obeyed, his blue eyes so compelling and yet so confused by Q’s statement. “I’m loving this. Every second. I don’t want to rush it. Sex is...not the main course for me, but dessert. This, being with you, learning about you, is my meat. But there’s always room for dessert. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t often have...I mean, I didn’t used to have the luxury of time.”

“Is this tedious for you? Because—”

James put his hand over Q’s lips. “This is on the opposite side of the galaxy from tedious.” His voice dropped to a growl and Q’s cock was hard in zero point six seconds. “I’m so very afraid to fuck this up.”

“You won’t. I mean, you did, but not now. Can you trust me?”

“I did every time I went on a mission. I do now.”

Q put his hand on James’s. “Then let me drive. I might be slow and careful but I can get us there, if you let me. Will you?”

“Willingly.”

“Then let’s go. I’ll lie awake and wish you were with me, and maybe wank to the thought of your touch and your smile, and the smell of your cologne and the feel of your beard. But it’ll be worth it.”

“What you do to me, Daniel. What you do to me.”

Q almost came from James’s whispered words, right there and then. “Let’s go.”

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

“Iranian? I’ve never had it before.”

“Then let me introduce you. You’ll be making porn movie noises over the starter.”

James was right, but then he got a little porny himself over the _zereshk polo_.

They both sighed over the coffee, and wanted seconds on the ice cream.

“I’m getting fat,” Q complained.

“You lost weight while you were recovering. It’s good for you to eat well. You eat too many ready meals, and skip too many altogether.”

“Yes, mum.”

“You could hire a housekeeper.”

“However did I get to the advanced age of thirty six without a nanny? That’s right, I just bloody managed, James.”

James touched Q’s nose. “Maybe you don’t always have to.”

“Pot, kettle.”

“You don’t understand. I learned this from you. I _can_ be taught.”

Wonders would never cease.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

007 returned to London on the weekend, and was hanging around Q-branch waiting for M to sign off on the mission so he could go home for a few days. Q’s boffins asked if they could use him for testing.

Q called the man in. “Good morning, 007. Glad to see you returned unscathed.”

“I and my equipment, I hope you noted. How are you, Q? You look much better.”

“I’m well. Thank you. Naomi said to give you her regards and gratitude when you returned.”

“That’s very kind of her. The collapse of the Russian group had consequences for my mission which ended it sooner than expected, and more cleanly. So I, too, am grateful. Uh...I see the commander is attached to your department. Are you...is that going well?”

“Better than expected, 007.” And because the man knew the truth, added, “Things are progressing.”

“Then I’m very glad for both of you,” he murmured, smiling. “Now what can I do for you?”

Q had an appointment with Medical on Monday afternoon. Doctor Shah checked him over, and said the dressings could stay off. “Just keep your hands off it, and use a moisturiser or light oil to ease any itching or tightness. Lukewarm showers are good too.”

“What about the scarring? Is there anything you can do?” Q hadn’t dared ask before now. The words burnt into his skin were much clearer, livid red against his white chest.

“You could wear a compression garment. My feeling is that it won’t produce better results than you are likely to get without it, but can make you an appointment with a plastic surgeon if you’re really concerned. The scars will take up to a year to mature, and should become less red and obvious over time, especially with your skin.”

Q declined the plastic surgeon, and asked for advice about a good moisturiser he could use. One of the nurses suggested almond or jojoba oil, and gave him a small tube of unscented hand cream to tide him over until he could get to Boots. “Use the oil twice a day,” she said, and gave him a sheet of information.

Finally he was free of the daily necessity for wound dressing and cleaning. He was no longer a burns patient, but a burns survivor. He thought it would feel much more wonderful than it did, but so great had been his improvement since he came back to work, it was almost an anti-climax.

This weekend, he could move things on. Did he want to?

“Just bloody do it, Daniel,” he told himself. He sent a text to James. _Free this weekend?_

A reply came an agonising half an hour later. _Sorry, working. Yes. I’m free._

_Pack bag for 2 nights. No need for clothes._

_Dirty boy._

Q grinned. He already knew where he wanted to stay. It was _ridiculously_ expensive. He wanted to impress upon a certain former agent that expense was no object when it came to being well bedded.

He tried to avoid James in the office, which was fortunately easy to do. James had been gleefully snatched up by the ballistics team, and spent his days firing guns and refining them. When he wasn’t working on guns, it was miniature devices, testing for practicality, comfort and speed. Feedback from agents after missions was one thing. Feedback before they went into the field could save agents’ lives. Q left the field testing of guns and bombs largely to his team, although he was hands on when a particularly tricky prototype was being tried out. Those tended to bring the entire office to a halt as everyone watched. However, such drama was rare in Q-branch these days. Computer code rather than explosions was their most effective weapon now.

But he couldn’t avoid James completely. When he crossed paths with him, Q put on his best, coolest and most professional expression, and James of course, never let anything show that he didn’t want to. No one suspected a thing as far as he could tell.

Thursday bought a meeting with M and Bill to talk about money. Q hated these meetings. He hated having insufficient funds even more, though.

He finally escaped at noon, almost flinging himself from M’s office in sheer exasperation. Eve looked up from her computer.

“Q, time for lunch today?”

“Yes, why not?” Q said, grinning at her. “I need a break from budgets.”

“Oh yes.” She flapped a hand at her screen. “I’ve been looking at spreadsheets for days and I’ve gone cross-eyed.”

“Then grab your coat and let’s make a run for it.”

A café had opened up near Headquarters and they decided to give it a try. It was quieter than the pub, with blacked-out windows except at the top and on the whole, Q approved. “It’s like it was designed for spies.”

“Can’t you tell? The owner used to work for us. Retired six months ago. Edward from Industrial Espionage, don’t you remember?”

“Can’t say I do. So that’s who Naomi is replacing?”

“She’s taking the job?”

“Yes. She’s just finalising things, but she’s given notice. It’ll be an immense relief.”

“I bet. Congratulations. I’ll see more of her too.”

They ordered and paid, then Eve put on a serious expression. “Mariam in Accounts told me yesterday she saw you having dinner last week at Alounak with a certain former double-oh.”

Q’s temper rose, so his voice grew cold. “And she’s just passing this around as gossip? Does she realise that she could get me killed?”

Eve sat back. “God, I didn’t...I’m sorry. I was more concerned about you being with him, and the risk, than...you’re right. I’ll speak to her.”

“No, I’ll speak to Tanner. She knows better. Who else has she told?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we need to find out. Loose lips sink agents.”

“You’re right. I didn’t think.”

Q pulled out his phone and sent a message to Bill, asking for the woman to be pulled away from her desk and questioned. “We just caught three traitors in our midst and this crap is still going on. I want to be able to trust the people we work with.”

“I don’t think she thought...she thought it was funny. I was horrified. _Are_ you dating him?”

“It was _dinner_ , Eve. It’s not like we’re complete strangers. He stayed at my house, remember? And then I went into the field and was injured and we were celebrating me coming back to work.”

“Oh. Of course. Just a one off. Good. Because he trails bodies after him, that man. That organisation is still there and they still want him dead.”

The food arrived, preventing Q’s snappish reply. When the waitress left, he leaned over and said, “They want me too, M said. I’m not going to live like a hobbit underground to avoid what they might do. I’ve taken precautions, but I intend to lead my life as best I can, as normally as I can. I presume the commander has made the same calculation. In fact I know he has because we’ve talked about it.”

“Of course you have. I’m sorry. I was just worried about you.”

“Thank you. I’m more worried about stupid people putting my life in danger just to earn brownie points in the ‘who’s shagging who’ interoffice championship.”

“Yeah. I’m losing my edge if I didn’t realise that. M will tear a strip off me.”

“I don’t plan to tell him if you don’t. But things have changed. Another reason I’m glad Naomi will be at Six. She’ll get the proper training and advice.”

“And a license to carry a gun.”

“That too. Which reminds me, I’m due some firearms practice. Want to join me tomorrow?”

“You’re on.”

Bill Tanner emailed him by the time Q returned from lunch, and promise the whip would be cracked. Q debated whether to tell James, but decided not to. It wasn’t like they didn’t know the risk of being seen or gossiped about. That it came from their own people was what hurt.

On Friday night, he and James met in the car pool, each carrying overnight bags. Any agent worth their salary would put two and two together and come up with the right answer. That wasn’t the point. Q refused to hide, and he’d fill out all the right forms when it became appropriate to do so, but all them placed a great deal of trust in the drivers and the security guards and all the employees who had cause to know where they were and when. They couldn’t operate if they didn’t trust them.

On the other hand, he wasn’t exactly going to snog James at Headquarters either. So they were polite and professional as they entered the car, two colleagues simply off for the weekend. Whether together or not, Q wouldn’t give cause to speculate.

As they arrived at the Corinthia hotel, Q whispered, “If you’ve ever brought someone here, I don’t want to know.”

“I have not. God, Daniel. This is...not what I expected.”

Q grinned with delight. It wasn’t easy to surprise a double-oh, former or not.

A porter offered to take their bags, but they both refused. “Habit,” James said, apologising.

“I quite understand. I’ll just check us in.”

Outwardly Q was Zen as he knew how. Inside, he was fluttering, shivering with anticipation. Was this the right time? Would it go as well as he hoped?

The room was perfection, as much as he was allowed to see before James pressed him against the door and kissed him until his eyes crossed. “You have no idea how much I needed that,” James growled.

“I, uh, have some idea.” Q adjusted his trousers. “I’m going to shower. You may watch.”

“I can do more—”

Q held his hand up. “Watch for now.”

“Bossy brat.”

“Literally your boss, commander. I have to get some things out of the bag.”

He had brought his own shower stuff and other things for the weekend. He kicked off his shoes and socks, grabbed the toiletry bag, and went into the huge bathroom, leaving the door open. He stood facing the basin. James watched from the door. _You can do this, Daniel_. He loosened his trousers, stepped out of them, and then removed his underpants. James’s breathing hitched. “Lovely bum.”

Q ignored him, removing his cardigan and his shirt. He stood there in his vest, still facing away. Now was the moment of truth. He pulled the vest off over his head. “If you can’t bear the sight of the scars, it’s best I know now,” he said, and turned around, letting James look.

James said nothing at first, his eyes travelling up and down Q’s body. Then he stepped forward and cupped Q’s face in his hands. “You’re gorgeous.” Then he kissed Q, long and deep and sweet.

“They’re ugly.”

“Nothing about you is ugly. Not one square inch.”

Q held onto him, knees suddenly weak. He’d been so afraid. “You’ve had so many beautiful people.”

“It’s not a competition. Renoir, Reubens, Dürer, all produced beauty. All different, all perfect.”

Q smiled against his neck. “You can join me in the shower. If you want.”

“Oh yes.”

Q stepped into the shower and set the water going, standing under the stream when it was warm enough. James undressed, watching the water cascade over Q’s body. “I want to wash you. I want to touch you.”

“Yes.”

James picked up Q’s shower gel and a cloth, stepped under the water. For a few moments he just stood in front of Q, his chest barely touching. Q shivered, waiting. James put some gel on the cloth, and wiped Q’s face. Down his arms, down his sides. Then his scarred chest, rubbing gently, reverently. “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It’s sensitive.”

“It will be.”

James knelt, washing Q’s stomach, down his legs. More gel, then washing around Q’s genitals, his stiff cock. “Oh God,” Q whispered, and groaned when James put his mouth on him. A few sucks, tongue working at the tip.

“Turn around,” James said.

Q wanted to complain, but they had plenty of time. James rubbed the cloth over his buttocks, the backs of his thighs. A pause for more shower gel, then the cloth moved down his crack, over his hole. Q spread his legs. “Please, please,” he murmured.

“I’ve got you,” James said. The washing was torture, the cloth moving up and down, inside carefully, rinse, repeat. Then a hot, insistent slippery pressure. James’s tongue. Q put his hands on the wall, and locked his knees. He needed to come, need to come now.

But again James stopped. He stood and finished Q’s back, then stood with him under the warm water, letting him rinse off, holding him.

“I need you,” James said.

“Please,” Q said. “Fuck me.”

“Here?”

“God yes. In the bag. There’s slick. Please.”

James moved away but was back so fast Q shivered only for a second. Two slippery fingers breached him, hard and slow. He hung his head, the water on his head a constant background to that aching, beautiful stretching.

“Condom?” James asked.

“No need.” Not with the number of blood tests and health checks he’d undergone, as had James.

Something blunter, bigger pushed, then filled him so carefully. Q exhaled, overloaded. James paused.

“No, hurry.”

“I’m driving now, Daniel.” James kissed him between his shoulder blades. “Shhh.”

Another gentle thrust. James was so big, and Q didn’t know if he could really take this, but then he could. He rocked back onto James, forcing the rhythm, urging him deeper, faster. But James would not be rushed, thrusting into Q with a cruelly slow motion, dragging back and making him ache with longing, then filling him to the point of almost pain. Q put his hand on his own cock, but James pulled his hand away. “Mine,” he said, and put his own hard, brutal hand on Q, just as he had weeks ago, but this, this was so much better.

He made Q come, semen washed away instantly under the shower stream, then a few seconds later, James’s body stiffened, hard and deep in Q. Q would have fallen if not for James’s grip. He hung there, trying to catch his breath, wondering if he would ever feel this shattered after sex again. James turned him and kissed him.

“Oh God, James.”

“My thoughts exactly. Come on, let me dry you off.”

James towelled him down, the big fluffy towels warm and comforting. Q returned the favour, finally allowing himself to explore a body he had seen naked many times before, on hidden cameras and in Medical, even in Q-branch while fitting equipment. But never like this, flushed from sex, eyes brilliant and joyful. “Mine,” he whispered.

“Every inch,” James said.

James had used the almond oil Q had bought instead of the lube, still buried in the bag. “Actually, this is for the scars. Twice a day.”

“Then come to bed and let me put it on you.”

James snagged another towel and the oil, took Q by the hand and led him over to the enormous bed in the centre of the room. He pulled back the covers and invited Q to lie down. “It’s heaven,” Q said, sinking into the pillowy softness.

“Needs more cats,” James said, and Q laughed.

James poured oil onto his hand, letting it warm a little before putting it on Q’s chest. He rubbed carefully, thoroughly. How can he bear to look, Q wondered. “I can get them reduced later, maybe. Can’t face the idea now.”

“Not on my account,” James said. “Look at me. Barely a centimetre that hasn’t been burned or shot or cut.”

He exaggerated, but his chest bore the signs of a hard life, hard fought. “No one wrote a message to their enemy on your skin.”

“Not for want of trying.” James bent and kissed Q’s chest, before setting the bottle of oil on the bedside table and tossing the towel onto a chair. He snuggled down beside Q, arm draped possessively across him. “These scars remind me that I’m with a brave man, a clever man, someone who willingly took on one of the deadliest people I have ever met, and beat him with just a laptop and pure balls.”

“My balls are not pure,” Q said.

James reached down and cupped them. “They won’t be when I’ve finished with them.”

They lay like that for an hour, holding each other, kissing. Q could have spent all night like that but James declared he was hungry, and he would need the energy.

“My, commander, anyone would think you had plans or something.”

“My plans have subfolders, and every one of them has your name on it, Daniel. So get up, get dressed, and let’s see what this fleabag hotel can offer.”

“Fleabag hotel!”

“I’ve seen better,” James said, but laughed as Q pounced and demanded he retract the slur against one of London’s finest establishments.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

An hour later, James muttered, “Uh...maybe...room service?”

Q had his mouth full, so didn’t answer.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

They didn’t make it out of their room for breakfast either.

“I’m not staying inside all day,” Q declared, shifting his slightly sore bottom to a more comfortable position. “I thought the National Gallery for a start, unless you had a better idea. Haven’t been there in ages.”

“More than five years, in fact,” James said, buttering a croissant. His eyes crinkled in a smile, and Q remembered what he referred to.

“Yes, not since then.” Q sipped his tea and looked at his lover, then muttered, “‘Bloody big ship’, my arse.”

“I thought you were some horrible art student trying to impress me.”

“Do horrible art students usually hit on you in galleries?”

“More often than you think.”

“I think it never happens so once would be more often.”

James merely smiled and bit into the croissant in a way that made Q want to fill James’s mouth with his tongue instead. Maybe after.

They made it out of the hotel by eleven. “It’ll be busy,” James said. “Saturday and all that.”

“When is it not? We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh yes we do. You’re not the only one who wants to revisit the more pleasant moments of the past.”

“You said I had spots!”

“And you have proved that not only do you not have spots, but you are more than capable in your position, and thus I was wrong on every point. It’s not often I’m glad to be wrong, Daniel. Let me enjoy the memory.”

Q stared at James as they walked up Northumberland Avenue. “You never gave me the impression...well, of being impressed. At all.”

“I took the car you rebuilt. Didn’t that tell you I loved your work?”

“Loved the car, you mean.”

“There is no way I would drive a car rebuilt by an idiot.”

“It...was burned. By him, while it was in storage.”

James’s step only faltered a little. “Thought it might be,” he said, apparently calm. “Nothing is too petty for some people.”

“I was furious.”

“On my behalf?”

“On my own. I’d worked so hard, and I made it for you.”

James turned to him, smiling. “So you were trying to woo me with the Aston Martin. How sweet of you, dear Q.”

Q didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t been...or had he? “I didn’t even like you then.”

“Funny how that works,” James said, still grinning.

“You think everyone falls for your charm.”

“No. Just the ones I really, really need to.” He glanced at Q again. “Usually it’s for a mission. This time, it’s all for me. Every second. All mine.”

“And mine.”

“All ours. Now, ready for the onslaught?”

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

 _The Fighting Temeraire_ was still as sad and lovely as Q’s first impression.

“Admit it, you were being just a little unkind towards me,” James said.

“Totally deserved it,” Q said. “Everyone had warned me.”

“It _is_ a bloody big ship.”

“A wreck, past its use by date. Unlike you.”

“Back then, yes. Now, it’s true.”

“I can think of a great many better uses for you than breaking you up for scrap.”

“Dirty boy,” James whispered in his ear, and Q’s cock jumped. _Bloody hell, we had sex only an hour ago_.

“Behave, commander. There’s more to see.”

“And I have more to show you.”

“Dirty old man.”

James grinned. “You know, I think I quite like that title.”

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Two hours at the gallery, and then around the corner to the National Portrait Gallery. “I haven’t been here since I was a child,” Q said.

“Which is about when I would have first seen it, when I came to London after I left the Navy.”

“You are not that old, James.”

“Pleased to hear you admit that, Daniel. I’ve chased people through here. Never stopped for a good look.”

“Time to remedy that. We should make a list of all the places you’ve never seen properly or at all, and go to them.”

“I think I’d like that,” James said. “I’ve never been much of a tourist. Pretended to be one, never the real thing.”

“We’re in the most beautiful city in the world,” Q said. “Now you have time to appreciate it.” He walked up the stairs.

“I like the view from here the best.”

Q turned and grinned at him. “Keep up or that’s all you’ll see of it.”

By five o’clock they were ready for high tea at the hotel. “Something else I can’t remember ever doing,” James said, drinking his second cup of tea.

“I used to think you agents had the life of Riley. Then I joined Q-branch and saw the grubby side. But I never imagined so little of it was fun.”

“I had fun. Just not...this kind. Or going to a gallery where I wasn’t meeting someone, spying on them, or casing the place for a break-in later. I’ve been just about everywhere, done a lot of things. But it’s the little things I’ve missed out on. Tea. Cats. Beautiful man in my bed I’m not trying to get information out of.”

Q poked his tongue out discreetly. “I still think you’re looking for a way around that despot you work for.”

“Tanner can be tough, I grant you.”

“Cheek. Don’t you miss the cars? The boats? Fine dining, expensive wines, beautiful women on your arm?”

“I tell you what I don’t miss—being shot at. Or just being shot. Or captured. Or tortured. Running along trains, leaping off bridges or falling buildings. My knees won’t bear it any more.”

“I thought you were an adrenaline junkie?”

James sipped his tea. “Like most addictions, cold turkey is one way to get off them. I’m quite prepared to enjoy a quieter life. Besides, now if I speed up the M1, I’ll have to pay for my own tickets.”

“True. You could buy a boat.”

“I already own a boat. It’s in dry dock at Bembridge. Fancy a sail in it?”

“I’ve never...I don’t even know if I would get seasick.”

“Only one way to find out. When the weather improves?”

“Think we can keep this going that long?”

James set his cup down, and clasped Q’s wrist across the table. “Do you think I’m not serious about this?”

“We haven’t really talked about it. Are you? Because there are no strings, James. You walk away when you want, and so will I.”

James set his cup down. “Are you finished? Because we should talk about this in private.”

 _And there it goes_ , Q thought, his gut twisting. He ate the last finger sandwich, finished his tea, and wiped his hands. “After you.”

James stood at parade rest in the lift, hands behind him, feet apart. Q couldn’t tell what it meant, read the expression in those chilly blue eyes. He opened the door into the room, and James closed it. Then he pushed Q against it and kissed him like the world was about to end, and all he wanted to do before he died was hold Q and be lost in that touch.

When he set Q free, Q couldn’t move. “Uh, that really doesn’t feel like you want to break up with me.”

“What? How on earth did you get that impression?”

“Private talk? I thought it was going to get loud. You wanted to be angry.”

James caught his hands. “I _wanted_ to show you in every way I can that I want this, I want it for a long time. Forever, if you want it too. I never wanted to lose you. I hoped when I moved out, once you calmed down, there might be a way back. When I saw you....” He let Q’s hands go and walked away. “That morning in Q-branch, your first day back. You spoke to me with so much hate. I hadn’t realise how badly I’d fucked up.”

“Not hate. I was hanging on by my fingertips.”

“But you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I thought we were through, you...you bloody authoritarian lackwit!”

James blinked. “Good God.” Q couldn’t tell if he was shocked or amused.

“Sorry. But how can you be so stupid when I know you’re so damn smart?”

“Pot and kettle again, Daniel. How can you see me now and not know I want this to work? I want this to last. What do I have to do?”

“Nothing, James. Nothing more. We just haven’t talked about it. I didn’t want to assume before you said it out loud.” Daniel sat on the sofa, patted the seat beside him. “Come here.”

James walked over, but instead of sitting beside Q, he knelt in front of him and put his head on Q’s lap. “Fear makes me stupid,” he murmured.

Q stroked the bristly blond hair. “Me too. I’m afraid of appearing clingy. I can’t afford to look inadequate. Don’t tell me you don’t know what that’s like.”

“Never let the enemy know your weaknesses.”

“In my case, it’s M and my mad scientists, but the same thing applies. You went to work with fresh bullet wounds. I’ll do the same with my heart torn in two, if I need to.”

“I did that to you?”

“Not...completely. Shit timing though, commander.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Make it up to me.” James went to unzip Q’s trousers. “Not like that. I want to wash you this time. And then I’d like to fuck you.”

James straightened. To Q’s surprise, James’s mouth twisted uncertainly. “I...uh....”

Q realised that he was trying to say. “What, never?”

“Not...voluntarily.”

Q put his hands on James’s shoulders. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

James turned his head to kiss Q’s wrist, licking it a little. It would have given Q a tingle if he wasn’t in shock from what James had just said.

“I’m not saying no,” James said after a bit, while the silence had lain on them, heavy and dark as the sky outside.

“Lie with me on the bed? Let’s get undressed.”

Q took his time, because James liked to watch. He felt a bit awkward about returning the favour after such a revelation. James, now naked, came up behind him and kissed his neck. “It really isn’t a big deal, Daniel, what happened.”

Q turned and took his hand, guided him down onto the bed. “Can you talk about it?”

James shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

“It was back when I was new, not yet a double-oh. Happened twice, both times at the hands of someone like Blofeld. People like that thinks rape unmans a man, shows him to be weak, robs him of his power. Just another form of torture with the same intent. The first time, when the guy turned his back, I broke free and bashed his head in. The second time, I broke the man’s neck. It was all a mind fuck. Didn’t work on me. I’ve had worse. Very much worse.”

Q shuddered. “I don’t know how you got through that. Five more minutes of his soldering iron I’d have given him the password to the Bank of England if I’d known it.”

“Training, pain tolerance, knowing what they’re trying to do. It’s not _fun_ —it’s never not a bastard, and the physical consequences can be long -lasting. As you know,” he said, tracing a gentle finger down Q’s chest. “I had nightmares, and those were replaced by worse nightmares. I deal with it by pushing it to the back of my memories, not refreshing it and reliving it. I’m not a fan of the talking cure.”

“Me either. We don’t have to...I was being silly, playing at being a dom. I like you inside me. We don’t have to switch.”

“But I want to try. I was only telling you I’m not that experienced.”

Q kissed him, and lingered over it. James swung a leg over him, and their erections pushed against each other, instinctively seeking the rhythm needed to reach an orgasm. “Stop,” Q gasped. “I don’t want to come like this.”

“Frottage not your thing?”

“Not when you could be fucking me, or I could ride you.”

“Or you could take me.”

Q stared into James’s eyes, trying to read his expression, his intent. “Then let’s shower. Or we could have a bath together.”

“Hmmm. Shower. Bath after.”

“Good thinking.”

Q let James wash him, touch him all over, reaffirming their connection, his desire for Q. Then James stood still as Q ran the cloth over that hard, scarred body, lingering over his genitals and stroking his cock. He tasted it and James shivered, so Q did it again. He took it in, his tongue rasping the foreskin, letting the length go deep. Sometimes no gag reflex was a bonus, he thought. He cupped James’s balls, and James’s hand landed on his hair, finger-combing it against the streaming water. Q used the cloth again as he sucked, wiping down James’s crack, around his hole. He put the cloth aside, and as his mouth slid up and down the thick length, his finger teased James, not pressing in, but testing, letting him feel how good this could be. As James’s balls tightened, Q slid a finger in just half an inch, and James came with a groan, coming and coming and shuddering with his orgasm.

Q swallowed, let the water wash over him for a few seconds, then stood up. “Feeling relaxed?”

“Boneless.”

“Good.” He turned off the water, stepped out, and grabbed one of the fluffy bathrobes the hotel provided. “Put that on.”

Q towelled off, then put on a bathrobe of his own. “Still up for it?”

James took Q into his arms. “More than ever.”

“On the bed then, commander.”

Q lay behind James, just holding him, kissing his back, running his hand up and down James’s broad chest. He was only a couple of inches taller than Q but he weighed forty pounds more, all of it muscle. He had to be keeping up the arduous fitness schedule he followed as an agent. “We should go running together sometime.”

“Daniel, you’re killing me.”

“Sorry.” Q reached back to the bottle of lube, and slicked up his fingers. “Ready?”

“Daniel....”

Q smiled and kissed James’s back again, sliding his fingers between two tight buttocks. “Relax, James. I can stop as soon as you want.”

“Get on with it. Don’t tease the beast.”

Now Q wanted to do just that to see what would happen. Perhaps now wasn’t the right time. “Roll on your front.”

James obeyed, spreading his legs. Q added more lube, slid his fingers in slow. James tensed, relaxed.

Q wasn’t ever going to confess he’d only done this a couple of times himself and it hadn’t exactly been a success either time. But he knew what he liked, and he liked this. So, that’s what he did, slowly opening James up, sliding into him in tiny increments, letting James enjoy the sensation because fucking wasn’t just about the penetration for Q. He kept going until he felt James was becoming impatient. “Hands and knees okay?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Stop treating me as if I’ll break.”

“I’m not. No wonder Eve called you a bull elephant.” James snorted, and Q slapped his butt, not hard. “Behave, I’m driving.”

“Yes, sir.”

Q slicked himself up, and nudged at James. “Really relax now.”

James grunted, and Q slid in. “God,” he breathed. No wonder James preferred to top. He pulled out, pushed back in. James didn’t seem to mind. “Okay?”

“Daniel.”

Right. Driving. He thrust a couple more times, a little harder, and James hissed. “Keep going, it’s good,” he said, though his voice was strained.

A little more lube, and Q did what James wanted. He reached under his lover, found his cock, still limp but a pleasure to handle, and stroked him, not expecting him to get hard. He found his rhythm, discovered a slight change in angle made all the different, and lost himself in fucking this dangerous, gorgeous man.

If James had had any complaints about Q’s stamina, he couldn’t have any tonight. Lots of sex meant Q could last quite some time, and James wasn’t complaining or telling him to get on with it. His cock twitched, filled a little. Q couldn’t believe the libido of this man.

He sped up a little, thrust harder, and it seemed no time at all before his orgasm took him by surprise. He mourned that a little. He’d wanted to make it last even longer.

He leaned over James, tired but happy. “Okay?”

“Very much.” James reached up to ruffle his hair. “But I need to move.”

“Oh. Of course.” Q went to the bathroom to clean up and fetch a cloth. James was on his front again, clearly expecting to be tended to, which Q gladly did. He threw the cloth back at the bathroom, and lay next to James. “You felt so good.”

James turned his head to face him, and smiled. “So did you, my beautiful dirty boy.”

Q kissed him. “You wonderful dirty old man.”

He listened to James breathing, and somewhere along the way, holding onto his lover, fell asleep.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Morning found them still entwined, though James had rolled over and was now holding Q in his arms. Q opened one eye. “s’it?”

“Half past eight. I haven’t slept in like that for about twenty years.”

“Me either. Can’t move.”

“Then don’t.” James kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

Q nuzzled at James’s chest. “I rather love you too. I certainly _like_ you more than is sensible.”

“That’ll do for now.” James stared into Q’s eyes. “You know what I want. Now I need to know what you want.”

“This. Being together, being equals. Give and take. Top and bottom,” he couldn’t help adding.

“I think I can handle that. Bit sore though.” James shifted to demonstrate the point.

“Yes, there is that, but I can make it up to you.”

“I’ll take you up on that. What time’s checkout?”

“Midday. We never had that bath.”

“Oh yes. I was looking forward to that.” Amazing how James could, with a lift of his eyebrow and quirk of his lips, convey all the naughty, delicious things that could happen in said bath.

“Do you have plans for the rest of the day?”

“No. But you have to get back, I know.”

Q nodded. “Naomi’s leaving for Paris this morning. So, cats.”

“Mmmm, yes. I miss the two of them.”

“They miss _you_ , you soft touch. Come and visit. You can stay over tonight if you like.”

James stroked his thick fingers through Q’s messy hair. “Are you sure?”

“Unless we plan to beggar each other by only having sex in luxury hotels, I think it’s inevitable at some point. Is your flat nice?”

“No. Still in the safe house. I haven’t made any other arrangements. Can’t seem to get motivated.” James carefully disentangled himself, and kissed Q from a standing position. “Loo,” he said, and padded off.

Q lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. There was such an obvious solution to James’s situation, but it had worked out so badly last time. He couldn’t go through all that again.

Since they were awake, there didn’t seem any good reason not to order breakfast. It was another cold grey day, and the idea of sitting at home with the cats on his lap appealed. He wouldn't be disturbed since he had booked himself as being completely unavailable unless in the direst emergency. “And that better be someone standing at the door of Downing Street with a nuclear device,” he’d told Bill.

“You seem troubled,” James said as they sat down to eat. “Something bothering you?”

Q picked up a muffin. “No. Just contemplating a pub lunch in front of a roaring fireplace, tea at home with the cats, and maybe fucking until we’re too exhausted to stand. It’s just an idea.”

“You have the best ideas, Quartermaster.”

“Thank you, commander. I thought so. I also had another thought. Maybe we could try a few more dirty weekends before I succumb to the inevitable suggestion that you move back in to the house. Kind of like a trial marriage.”

“I don’t have to live with you, Daniel.”

“But it makes sense. You would be more protection, I have the space, we love each other, and then there’s the sex. And the cats.”

“When you lay it all out like that.... Dirty weekends?”

“Wherever you like. Hotel, home, yacht, Scottish B&B. I don’t get a lot of uninterrupted weekends though. Damn double-ohs.”

“Yes, they’re a bloody nuisance.” Q grinned. “Your terms are acceptable, Mr Gelberg.”

“Good. But if you fuck up again, James, I might not be so understanding. I don’t care what’s going through that thing you call a brain, but you talk to me about it. Any of it.”

“So charming, Daniel. But yes, I will.”

“Then we’re all right?”

James took his hand and kissed it. “Much better than.”

 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

On Monday, Q filled out a form disclosing a conflict of interest, and sent it to HR. He grinned as he looked at the pile of paperwork Jason had put in his tray, and waited.

 

Exactly twenty minutes later, Eve rang. “Q, darling, have you lost your mind?”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan this sequel, but there you go. All criticism, corrections, and comments most welcome. Unbeta'd, but I hope not unpolished. Thank you to all who read the previous story and left comments and kudos!


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